Fast Times At Beacon Hills High 2
by Persephone Price
Summary: SEQUEL TO FAST TIMES AT BEACON HILLS HIGH. While Amy adjusts to the drastic changes in her life, the gang faces an onslaught of threats, each more fearsome than the last. Strong language and some adult themes. Derek/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Hi guys! It seems like it's been a long time, doesn't it? So as I promised last summer, here is the sequel to Fast Times at Beacon Hills High, which I have very creatively titled Fast Times at Beacon Hills High 2 (sometimes my own genius amazes me). The title is sort of subject to change, but I already made the banner for it and I'm lazy and I don't really want to redo it so... **

**PLEASE READ THIS PART: Okay sorry for the all caps rage BUT this is important. FIRST, I recommend rereading the last chapter of the first story before you read this. SECOND, I am going to be abroad for the summer, so my updates might be weird. And by weird I mean infrequent/at really bizarre times/I don't really know what to expect. I'm PRAYING that I will be able to watch the show from a foreign country (Imma be honest, if I can't bad things will happen) and I'm assuming that I will be (the internet is a wonderful thing), but I'm just making sure you all are forewarned.**

**Anyway, down to business - I hope you all enjoy this chapter. We're picking up right where we left off...**

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**Chapter 1**

_Tick. _

The clock they hung on the wall reminded them that they were still on Earth, still in a universe that kept time. It was the only thing grounding them, the only thing drawing them out of the surreal limbo they had suddenly been plunged into. She wondered how many times a person could feel like this, how many times the world as she knew it could disintegrate beneath her feet. The tragedies seemed never-ending.

_Tick_

But really, what had happened wasn't a tragedy. It was merely a change. An enormous change, but a change nonetheless.

_Tick_

They were in the kitchen; Amy sat on one of the barstools, but Derek remained standing, frozen, tense, and paralyzed by the uncertainty of it all. By his own uncertainty and by hers.

_Tick_

"Are you going to say something?" his voice scratched against the silence.

_Tick_

"… What do you want me to say?" A whisper, barely a whisper, her tone was equally hoarse from the trauma. They had been home for hours. He had been trying to pry some response – _any_ response, because anything was better than nothing – out of her, but this was the first time he'd achieved any success.

_Tick_

"Anything."

_Tick_

"This wasn't what I wanted."

Pain and protest etched themselves into his face the moment she spoke, as if her words were merely confirmation of his suspicions. As if he had expected her to say this all along and had simply been waiting for her to say the words before he could react. "I didn't have a choice –"

"I know," she cut him off.

"What would you have had me do? Let you die?" he continued fervently, as if she hadn't interrupted him. "You know I couldn't do that, Amy, you _know_ I couldn't. Everyone I have ever cared about has died. I couldn't let that happen again, I _couldn't_." His monolog drowned out the methodical ticking; they were lost in their own world, now, cut off from the tethering sound.

"I understand. I didn't expect you to let me die, Derek."

"How can you? How can you understand?" He sounded almost angry, but she knew he wasn't – not with her, at least. "You've never experienced anything like that – _I _had never experienced anything like that. It's one thing to have everything you care about ripped away from you – I know what that feels like. You know what that feels like. But it's another thing entirely to have to watch it happen, to be so fucking _helpless_." The words gushed from his mouth with a passion that she had never known from him. Whatever happened had changed him.

But not like it had changed her.

"I don't know who I am anymore." She kept her tone as stoic as she could, not wanting to sound like a whiny child. It was so cliché, and she knew it. She knew she didn't have any right to feel sorry for herself. But it was still a struggle not to.

"I know… I know…" he acknowledged softly in an uncharacteristic murmur. "It will be hard at first, you're right. But you will feel better in time, I promise. You'll get used to it. And I'll be with you the whole way. I'll never leave you. Not. Ever. Not even for a second."

She watched him stare at his feet. Everything was amplified, now. Even the subtlest of movements were cast through a whole new lens, a warped point of view. Derek suddenly looked aged beyond his years, as if the life had been drained out of him. Never, _never_ had she seen him so shaken. Stress lined his face, but, above all, his ambiguously colored eyes were vulnerable. And she could hear things. New things, things she'd never heard before. Like his heart rate picking up when he mentioned what'd happened, like he was relieving it. Like he was having a panic attack.

She realized then that he might have been just as traumatized as she was, if not more so. She was a changed being, true enough, but she was changed physically and it was not the memory of the incident that had changed her. Derek seemed scarred, even more scarred than before, and she wondered how it was possible for a person to endure so much emotional pain in one lifetime.

Her gaze flickered down to her own body, to her stomach. Beneath her sweatshirt, there wasn't even a scratch. But she donned a gruesome bite mark on her wrist.

How would she explain this? For now, it didn't matter. Sure, people would come looking for her. Of course they would – she'd just up and vanished from the hospital. But Scott and Stiles were still at there, leading everyone off her trail. They had a little while before people came knocking at the door of their apartment.

She felt like her life had been ruined and saved all at the same time. She would have made the same decision, of course, even if she knew it wasn't what he wanted. And she _didn't_ want this, but it wasn't the end of the universe. She was glad to be alive. She would rather be alive as a werewolf than dead.

But he had been right all along. They all had, those many months ago in Stiles' bedroom. They had warned her. They'd told her to turn around and save herself from this world, this terrible world where her friends and her neighbors were at each other's throats, death was around every corner, and every moment could be their last. But none of them had known, not even her, that she'd been a part of it long before then. Long before most of them had. Since the day she was born, she'd been a part of it. Just like Derek.

And that brought her back to what had happened. She was a werewolf, now, finally becoming what nature had intended. Finally becoming the monster she was meant to be.

She didn't want it. She wanted to be human. But Derek had done what was necessary to save her. He would have done anything, she realized.

Apparently he loved her. She must have missed something, because it was now an obvious implication. It hadn't been so obvious a few hours ago, when she was still a human.

And she still hadn't heard him say it, not when she was bleeding on the ground, not when she was lying in that hospital bed, and not since they'd been home. Maybe he did say it, while she was unconscious, but she obviously wouldn't have been able to hear the words.

"What now?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know. But one thing's for sure: I'm going to kill that geriatric piece of shit. Gerard Argent is a dead fucking man."

The blue eyes that now held an entirely new significance searched his face. He didn't swear very often. "There's going to be a war, isn't there? A new one, not like before. It's going to be worse."

"I think so."

"We should just go. We should just leave," she pleaded. "We could start over somewhere new, somewhere where no one knows us." She gripped his hand harshly to emphasize her point.

"I thought you wanted to stay here. You refused to go with your family when they left. Why the sudden change?"

"It wasn't Beacon Hills that I didn't want to leave, it was _you_."

He thought about the prospect – he thought about it hard. It appealed to him more than she could ever know. "We can't… Scott, Stiles… They need me – they need us. Wherever we go, trouble will always follow. It's inevitable, given what we are. We might be able to stave it off for a while, but it will all be a lie – a farce. We can play pretend, but we will never be able to truly escape." _And I can't let the Argents get away with what they did. _"Whatever storm is coming," he continued, "we'll get through it." He was so grim. For someone who had just witnessed his girlfriend come back from the brink of death and make a full recovery, he didn't look very relieved. And it made sense why – this was only the beginning.

_Tick_

_Tick_

_Tick_

"I'm all right now, you know. We can just be happy about that, if only for a little while."

His eyes pierced hers, willing her to understand how lucky she was. How lucky they both were. Her hand ghosted over his cheek. "Derek… I'm here, I'm okay. I'm here…"

"You were so close to dying, Amy. _So close_." His voice cracked and for a moment she thought he might break down, but he composed himself and kept his features impassive. "It's a miracle you're alive. It's a miracle that what I did actually worked. I'm serious. A _miracle_. It shouldn't have worked. It shouldn't have… I have no idea why it did," he explained almost incoherently.

"I guess it's a good thing you were there, huh?" Her attempt to lighten the mood fell completely flat. He removed her hand from his face and held it in his own, his expression grave as ever. "Thank you," she breathed. "Thank you for saving me. I love you, Derek, I really do. And if you have something to say to me, please, _please_ tell me. If this has taught us anything, surely it's that our time together could be limited. We shouldn't waste even a second fighting over trivial things, like we always do."

_Tick _

"I know how you feel about me," he said, not coldly. "You don't have to keep telling me. After the first time… to me, it feels like it looses meaning every time someone says it – I don't necessarily mean you, but people in general. Saying it over and over won't make it any more true. I do love you, obviously, but it can sound so trite," he managed. "So many people say it without even knowing what it really means. I don't even think I knew what it meant until recently. What I felt for Kate wasn't real love, not like this."

"I never took you for a romantic," she chuckled lightly.

He furrowed his brow in protest, but she quickly moved forward and covered his lips with hers. It was such a melancholy kiss; he was practically grimacing through it, as if it were nothing more than a reminder of how weak she made him. _But it was_. It was too late to fret over it. The damage had been done, the realization had already hit him: she was his greatest weakness.

"Derek," she whispered when they broke apart, "you need to start a pack."

Practical. She was being practical. Out of a coma for a matter of hours, she was already planning their next move. Derek felt an odd swell of pride – everything that had happened, as horrible as it'd been, had made her strong. She had undergone a transformation before ever becoming a werewolf. It was hard to pinpoint when exactly, but in the time between discovering her family's secret and enduring the death of her father she had grown up – she'd had to in order to stay alive. And maybe that's what he'd seen in her from the start. He hadn't been able to identify it until now, but maybe _that_ was the initial, inexplicable hold she had over him – the ability to evolve for the sake of survival, no matter what the cost. It reminded him of himself. She was growing stronger and stronger as time marched on, and he felt glad to be able to help her. He was suddenly realizing that perhaps they weren't nearly as different as he had originally thought.

"I really only need one more," he reasoned. "I already have Scott… And you."

"Scott didn't seem very cooperative when you first mentioned the idea, from what I remember," she reminded him guardedly.

"I'm banking on him coming to his senses... If he does, I'll only need one more." His face remained contorted into a thoughtful frown. For a brief moment, Amy could read his mind.

"You still want it to be Jackson, even after what Scott and Stiles said."

"Ever heard the expression 'the devil you know'?" he replied without missing a beat.

She didn't really like the idea, but she saw his point. Jackson was flawed, but at least they understood his flaws. He could be managed, and there was a minimal risk that he would be able to fool them into trusting him. If they kept him on a leash, so to speak, he could be controlled. Derek was the Alpha, after all. He was the one with the power.

"How are we going to explain this to everyone?"

"What do you mean?"

"Uh, me sneaking out of the hospital after nearly dying? Don't you think that's gonna arouse some suspicion?"

"We don't really have any other choice than to say you made a miraculous recovery. We can tell them that you woke up alone and you were disoriented or something and just wanted to get home – I'll say that I found you here and didn't take you back because you seemed okay."

"Alright, sounds like a plan. Hopefully no one will ask too many questions."

"Seeing as you're all right, I don't think they will. They're not going to give up the investigation of who stabbed you, though."

"I'll tell them that I don't remember what the person looked like. Honestly, this is a matter that we should deal with ourselves."

"I couldn't agree more," he said tersely, gritting his teeth. It was obvious that he was trying to suppress a strong rage towards the Argents.

"We can discuss it in more detail later, with Scott and Stiles," she sighed. "For now… I think we should just take it easy for a little bit. For the rest of the day, at least."

Amy wasn't really concerned for herself; Derek clearly needed her after what had happened, though she knew he would never acknowledge it. He needed something to ground him. He needed some semblance of stability. And she wanted that to be her – and maybe it had been – but, in his mind, that stability had just been proved to be an illusion. He'd genuinely thought she was going to die, she could see that now – it had taken so much out of him that he could hardly allow himself to feel relieved. He had been her anchor when her father died, and now he needed her to be his.

"C'mere," she murmured almost unintelligibly, pulling him by the fabric of his shirt against her seated form. She embraced him tightly and kissed him again, as if to assure him that she was real, that she wasn't going anywhere. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and breathed in her scent, which was now startlingly unfamiliar. Unfamiliar, but – in a way – familiar. Like she was a part of him.

In a sense, he had turned her. Technically, she had been a werewolf to begin with, but he had revived it. So, she _was_ his part of him; she was part of his pack, and she was so much more. The dynamic between them was permanently altered. Yesterday, she had been his human girlfriend. Today, she was… his pack-mate. And they would be connected forever.

It didn't scare him, this change, not exactly. He had almost completely shirked his fear of commitment when it came to her. But there was a seriousness to their relationship now, a seriousness that hadn't quite been there before. They'd had an emotional connection to one another, but a biological component had just been added. It made their relationship seem more concrete.

"It's going to be okay," she assured him. She readjusted her grip around his neck and in response he tightened his arms around her waist as he stood in front of the stool, between her knees.

He laughed mirthlessly, a low rumble against her skin. "Just because you keep saying that doesn't mean it's true."

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**Author's note: Thanks for reading, my loves! As always, PLEASE REVIEW and let me know what you think! Sorry if this chapter is kinda anti-climactic. Think of it as a sort of intro. And let me know what you thought of the season 3 premiere while you're at it! What'd you think of the new characters? Review review review! Also check out my deviantart if you want to see some banners - my account name is rosie2102.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I hope you all like this one! **

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**Chapter 2**

Amy woke up feeling more energized than she had ever felt in her entire life. It was her first morning, her first real morning, as a werewolf. She shot into a seated position, the mattress springs squeaking loudly against the shift in her weight, with the quickness of a jackrabbit that had just consumed five Red Bulls.

Derek wasn't next to her. He had gone to sleep beside her, and now he was missing. Apparently, she was more in control of her new powers than she was even aware of – in a subconscious response to these wonderings, her ears sifted through the sounds in the apartment, like a radio being tuned, to focus in on Derek's low voice. He was in the kitchen, talking to people. Talking to Scott and Stiles. Amy hastily extricated herself from the thicket of sheets and jolted towards the sounds, only realizing in retrospect that she was pants-less, clad only in an oversized shirt.

Oh well. She looked down to make sure that everything crucial was under control. When she was certain that it was, she made her presence known by clearing her throat loudly.

"Amy!" Stiles exclaimed. Though his voice sounded just as it always did, she knew, she _knew_ that beneath his relief laid disappointment. _They had been the only humans._ Not anymore.

"Stiles!" she mimicked. They collapsed into a tight embrace. He smelled like laundry detergent, Axe body wash, and orange soda.

He seemed to have gotten a bit of her hair in his mouth, and after expelling by dramatically blowing air through his pursed lips, he said, "We were so worried."

They broke apart and Amy went to hug Scott, all the while saying, "I know. Apparently it's a miracle I'm alive." He smelled like Allison, bacon, and leaves.

"Well, I'm sure glad you are," Scott mumbled.

"Yeah, and I'm sure the rest of Beacon Hills oughtta be too," Stiles quipped. "Before yesterday, I never really knew what a man on the verge of mass murder looked like. It's a look I'll be sure to never forget so I can avoid it next time I see it."

Initially, Amy furrowed her brows in confusion, but one glance at Derek's sheepish scowl told her all she needed to know. It was a bit awkward to express the affection she wanted to express in front of Scott and Stiles, so she stayed firmly rooted in place and fought the inclination to approach him. One pointed look conveyed everything that needed to be said and the scowl fell away from his face.

"So, what were you guys talking about while I was asleep? Also, what time is it?"

"It's ten, and we were talking about where to go from here," Stiles answered promptly.

"First, I wanna know how we're gonna explain my miraculous recovery to… well, everyone."

"It's gonna be hard to pull off, but luckily I have an in at the hospital and Stiles has an in with the police force. We'll try to take care of it. Honestly, that's the least of our concerns at the moment," Scott said.

"I know, I know, we have to deal with the Argents," Amy muttered tersely.

"You know how I feel about having to 'deal with' the Argents," Scott replied.

"Dude, Gerard _stabbed me _and left me for dead."

"Yeah, and obviously I'm pissed about that and they can't get away with it, but he's still Allison's grandfather…"

"Scott, you need to see," Derek started urgently, speaking for the first time, "it is _us_ against _them_. It was clear before, and it couldn't be any clearer now."

Scott sighed loudly, clearly conflicted, and rolled his neck in exasperation. "I know. I know. But an all-out war…"

"I am going to kill Gerard Argent. Ideally, in the most painful way I can think of. End of story. Either you're with me, or against me."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Stiles cut in, jumping between them with arms raised in a pacifying manner. "Let's just chill for a sec with the ultimatums, okay?"

"Stiles, I'm with Derek on this one," Amy said somberly. "They will kill us without hesitation. They will kill _you_. It doesn't matter whether or not you're a werewolf at this point, so long as you're aligned with us you're in danger. It's not even about revenge anymore, it's about self-preservation."

"You're making a lot of big statements there, Ames," Stiles said nervously. He was very jittery, shifting his weight from foot to foot as his mind worked desperately to decipher the best course of action.

"I will help you how I can," Scott began, "Stiles and I will get the cops and the hospital off Amy's back. And I won't get in your way. But I can't really _actively_ help you. Allison means the world to me, and if I have to stop seeing her… I don't think I can do it…" Derek and Amy understood love. Scott knew they did, which was why he couldn't comprehend why they didn't also understand the precariousness of his situation.

Amy's features were blank as she stared at him in a mixture of annoyance and sympathy. "Fine," she said shortly. "Then we need at least two new werewolves."

"You're not really gonna start turning people?!" Stiles exclaimed in disbelief.

"You bet I am," Derek deadpanned.

"You _can't_," Scott whined. "You can't ruin people's lives like this, it's not right."

"I'm only going to turn people who want to be turned."

"And how are you going to manage that?" Stiles questioned manically. "'Oh hey, wanna be turned into a werewolf? Sure, you may turn into a raging, bloodthirsty monster every full moon, but it's got some other perks. Oh yeah, and by the way – werewolves exist!' Somehow I don't see that working out."

"Obviously it will be a bit tricky, but it won't be impossible. I'll target people who would be better off with the bite."

"Who's to say whether or not someone will be better off, Derek?" Scott hissed. "That's not for you to determine! Look at me, this _ruined_ my life! Yeah, maybe it got rid of my asthma, but I have a hellova lot of other issues that could have been avoided if I were human!"

"That's what you think now, but I promise you always feel this way," he said, voice monotone.

"I'm sorry, but that's not comforting at all."

"I don't care whether or not you find it '_comforting_,' it's the truth. And besides, I'm not asking your opinion on this. I'm just telling you what I'm going to do."

"Amy, you're okay with this?" Stiles inquired in confusion. The Amy he knew wouldn't sit back and let innocent people be dragged into this mess. The Amy he knew wouldn't wish their predicament on other people, especially not when they didn't know what they were getting into.

As if she could read his mind, she replied, "As long as they are duly warned, I don't see the problem. That's what you guys did for me – you warned me, and I chose to become part of this."

"Yeah, and don't you wish you hadn't?" he countered insistently.

"In some ways yes, in others no. I didn't really choose to become a werewolf, and yet here I am. I would have appreciated a choice."

The three males flitted their gazes at one another anxiously. Everyone knew that the choice had been death or becoming a werewolf. Stiles and Scott faulted Derek for many things, but they certainly did not fault him for turning Amy.

"I guess, but… Your situation was different," Stiles tried. "I mean, you're alive."

"Right. And targeting oh, I dunno, terminally ill people might be a good idea," she reasoned.

This seemed to be news to Derek, as he snapped his head to look at her. "I don't know if that's what I was thinking _exactly_, but I guess something along those lines…"

"Well, it looks like you two have a lot to discuss," Scott said distastefully. "We'll leave you to it." To Amy, he more gently said, "I think you're making a mistake." Without further ado, he and Stiles exited the apartment.

When she heard the door shut (something that, before, she would have had to strain her ears to hear), Amy turned slowly to face Derek. "It might just be the two of us," she said softly. She couldn't imagine a world in which she, Scott, and Stiles weren't in this together. The two of them – they were like her brothers, and her real brother was gone. After everything they had already been through together, she absolutely hated the notion that there might be a schism in their little band of misfit high schoolers. She had already lost her family, Allison, and now it seemed that she was losing them. It terrified her for several reasons. First, because she loved them, as friends love one another, and second because it meant that Derek was everything to her. To place so much of an emotional investment in one person didn't seem wise.

But if he started a pack… It would be her pack, too. The packmembers would be her family, her friends. They would have to be, because she had no one else.

"Not for long," was Derek's brief reply.

"I know you're planning on turning Jackson, but how are you going to choose the other one?"

"You just have to be observant. Odds are, there are a number of people who would benefit from the Bite; it's just a matter of circumstance in terms of who we stumble upon first."

"Am I officially part of your pack? Even though I was technically a werewolf to begin with?"

Derek nodded curtly. "Being in a pack isn't always just about who turned you. It's largely a choice. Scott, for example, was bitten by my uncle, but he never chose to be part of his pack. I assume you choose to be part of mine." His eyes flashed red at the last part, but it wasn't in a threatening manner – and somehow she knew this. Strange though it was, she could sense that it wasn't threatening. She didn't know what it was meant to convey, exactly, but she was fairly certain that her own eyes flashed blue in response. It was as though some understanding – one that she really didn't understand – had been reached between them.

"What the heck was that?" she asked shortly after.

"It's hard to explain," he answered rather unhelpfully. "It happens sometimes when werewolves interact. It's like a dominance/submissiveness thing." He seemed a bit uncomfortable as he said the last part, as his words inevitably held an unintentional sexual connotation. Amy was equally uncomfortable, and she felt her cheeks heat up.

"Oh."

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I'd like to turn Jackson as soon as possible. The sooner Gerard dies, the better. Plus, it'd be easier if I could train you all at the same time."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it'd be a waste of time to have to keep doing it over and over."

"But don't you think it might be a little bit unmanageable?"

Derek gave her a smirk. "I think I can handle you," he said smoothly.

Part of Amy felt a bit bashful about how blatantly seductive his tone was, but the other part was extremely turned on. She suspected it was the werewolf part. "Do you?" she flirted, moving closing to him.

"Definitely." He placed his hands securely on her hips and tilted his head to look down at her.

She grinned, pressed her hands against his chest, and said, "Don't get cocky, Mr. Hale – you haven't been an Alpha for very long. You're just as new as I am."

He finally broke out into a rare smile and hoisted her over his shoulder without warning. He carried her into the bedroom with great ease, as if she weighed no more than a bag of groceries, and plopped her down inelegantly on the unmade bed.

"I thought you said we don't have time to waste," she taunted.

"I think we can afford a few hours…"

Amy's eyes widened considerably. "_Hours_?" she repeated.

His smirk never faltering, he replied, "Trust me, you have a lot to learn about being a werewolf."

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**Author's note: Sorry if this is still not dramatic enough for you all, but don't worry, it will pick up! I'm really really excited to flesh out the different aspects of Amy's transformation, and I think it will be really fun to write. But let me know what you all think! At least we get to see Scott and Stiles in this chapter!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Hey everyone! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! I wanted to get around to responding to everyone individually like I usually do, but I've been traveling so I've had like zero time to do anything. I'm pretty much settled in now though, so hopefully I'll be able to update more regularly. This chapter is a bit short, sorry! I hope you enjoy it just the same!**

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**Chapter 3**

Because of her grave "injury," Amy had found herself in a bizarre situation; despite the fact that she was now perfectly healthy, she was barred from returning to school for at least a month. It was necessary to keep up appearances, and if she returned to school a mere week after she had been brutally stabbed, it was pretty likely to arouse a good amount of suspicion. Not to mention, Gerard Argent was the principal. It would be more than an understatement to say that her predicament would be obvious the moment he laid eyes on her. She might as well have "werewolf" tattooed across her forehead.

That said, it was incredibly strange to be left in the apartment with only Derek for such long stretches of time. She felt like a real person, like she was part of a real couple. Minus everything, minus the inordinate amount of unreal crap that had infiltrated her life, and minus the fact that she was now very, very far from a "real" person, she felt like an adult. Sure, maybe she was a werewolf, but she also finally felt like a woman rather than a girl. But she didn't even have time to dwell on the corniness of her musings.

Sure enough, playing house with Derek was fun for a while, but they were both well aware of the fact that they had important matters to attend to. Matters that, on Wednesday night, led them straight to Jackson Whittemore's enormous mansion.

"Couldn't you have just called him?" Amy complained in a hiss as she and Derek trudged through the woods at the outskirts of his property.

"This way seemed more appropriate," Derek reasoned lamely, fully aware that this explanation was unsatisfactory. Amy was about 95 percent certain that she felt a tick burrow its way into the flesh at her ankle.

"Sometimes I don't know why I just follow you so blindly," she lamented, rolling her eyes. "Clearly you have no idea what you're doing."

"You follow me because you're a Beta and I'm the Alpha."

"Really? You're the Alpha?" she baited in a mocking tone. "Why didn't you say so – oh wait. You did. About a thousand times."

"Shut up," he growled. His unwilling smile was the only thing that betrayed his fondness for her; for someone so stern, he actually didn't seem to take himself _too _seriously, at least not that she could tell. She merely gave him a mischievous grin and looked as though she was about to press onwards, but instead whipped out her cell phone.

"Yo Jackson," she said loudly, effectively shattering the layer of silence they had previously been working to maintain, "we're in your yard right now, can you come out? Don't ask questions." Jackson was many things, and one of them was intelligent – Amy didn't doubt that he would be able to put two and two together without her spelling it out for him. Plus, the phrase "don't ask questions" was always something she had wanted to utter, and now seemed as good a time as any.

When she hung up the phone, Derek shot her an unamused glare. Her forcibly innocent expression revealed to him that she thought she was being cute. "What, I'm not going to let you drag me into your lurk-y habits," she insisted. "It's 2012 for god's sake, you can pick up a phone. There's no need to go all… all primal."

"You realize I'm about to turn someone into a werewolf, right?"

"Well, yeah, but we can at least _try_ to be civilized about it."

"I'm literally going to bite him. With my teeth. There will be blood. There will be blood, in my mouth. I'm pretty sure any attempt at civility would be wasted."

Before Amy could make a remark about how kinky Derek's comment had been, Jackson interrupted their bickering. "What the hell is this? What are you doing here?"

"What do you think?" She had to actively stop herself from adding "dipshit" to the end of the sentence.

"You want to do this _now_?" he hissed lowly, his aquamarine eyes darting around to make sure they weren't being watched. _As if_, Amy mentally scoffed – they were in the middle of the woods on the edge of his property, who could possibly be around? But, she later realized, there was no such thing as being too careful when it came to these things. Especially with the Argents skulking around…

"I'm sorry," Derek drawled sarcastically, "is this not a good time for you?"

"Uh, no, not exactly," Jackson snapped prissily. "There's a big game on Friday, so I don't really have time to deal with any weird transition bullshit at the moment."

"It's now or never," Derek stated blankly. He had this uncanny ability of sounding incredibly threatening, even when his tone held no indication of anything malevolent.

"You can't just randomly show up here in the middle of the night and expect me to be okay with it," he continued to protest. It was strange, she thought, how drastically their two personalities clashed – it was even more apparent than either of them with Stiles, which, since they both often found themselves fighting the urge to beat Stiles to a pulp, was saying something. She wondered if making Jackson part of the pack was such a good idea after all.

"I don't know why you're not getting this," the other male started in agitation, "but _I'm _the one in a position of power here – you should be thanking me, not spouting off this nonsense about a freakin' _lacrosse game_." His tone had changed, and was now quite deadly, as if he shared Amy's misgivings. "If now's not a good time, we can easily find someone else."

Jackson's well-shaped eyebrows knitted together as he swallowed his pride and contemplated Derek's words. "Fine," he finally sighed. "Let's just get this over with." He held out his wrist, as if he were getting ready for a doctor to draw blood.

Derek's gaze flitted to Amy in hesitation, searching for something – perhaps for reassurance. She met his eyes with only regret, sorry that she too was unsure. "Just do it," she finally uttered.

And he did. Derek's teeth elongated, his eyes flashed red, and suddenly blood began to gush from Jackson's muscular forearm. His other hand shot to the afflicted area both in an expression of agony and attempt to slow the bleeding.

"Shit," he hissed in pain, wrenching away from his assailant.

Derek spat the coppery taste of Jackson's blood into the grass beside them and used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. Amy briefly wondered what this – this process – felt like for him and whether or not it was as unpleasant as it looked. She imagined it couldn't be, otherwise no Alpha would do it. As far as she was aware, blood might even taste _good_. And for a fleeting moment she was absolutely terrified, because she knew that at some point in her life she would inevitably find out.

"How long does it take to work?" Amy asked. She asked for him and she asked for herself.

Again, like he knew what she was thinking, he replied, "For you it might be different, but for him the transformation really won't take hold until the next full moon."

"So we have a week, then," Amy said. "A week to make one more werewolf."

"You're making another one?" Jackson cut in, seemingly having recovered from the pain of his wound.

"Yeah," she answered. "We need another one to form a pack."

Some very strange and treacherous emotion passed over Jackson's features, but it was gone as swiftly as it had appeared. "Oh," was all he said. Derek and Amy were intuitively able to surmise that something was going through Jackson's mind, something that didn't bode well for the two of them.

"Well, if we're done here," he continued, "I'm gonna go. See ya." His tone, as it always did, held a specific sort of unwarranted contempt.

Derek and Amy watched him tread back to his house, his silhouette eventually fading into the bright lights glowing from his porch. He wasn't gone for more than a minute before their heightened hearing picked up a loud crash from across the street. Even without their "special abilities," they would have been able to hear it.

"What was that?" Amy hissed, her senses not yet fine-tuned enough to distinguish the cause of the noise.

"Fighting," Derek said flatly.

Even in the dim light, he saw her eyes flash with panic. "What type of fighting?" she demanded.

"Not the type we're concerned with," he said. "Just typical, run-of-the-mill human fighting."

"Between who?"

"I don't know. Sounds like two guys, one older and one younger."

There was another jarring crash and the sound of fists pounding flesh. Someone made a noise as if they had been punched in the gut.

"It sounds pretty bad…" she noted.

"It's none of our concern." His voice was stern, as if to discourage her from wanting to get involved. But it was too late.

"Maybe we should go see if everything is okay."

"Amy…" he warned.

"It's right across the street," she continued as if she hadn't even heard him.

"No, Amy."

"We should just check!" Without waiting for him to respond, she bolted off towards the source of the racket. Derek rolled his eyes, but followed begrudgingly nevertheless. Regardless of how mundane the fighting sounded, he wasn't going to take any chances.

They arrived at the house across the street from Jackson, and it soon became apparent that the crashing noises were the result of pots and plates being hurled against the wall. Amy peeked through the window; she wasn't quite expecting what she saw. Cowered in the corner of the brightly lit dining room was one of her classmates. She couldn't quite recall his name, but his face was familiar and she was certain that he went to Beacon Hills High. He was tall, lanky, and didn't look at all like he should be in such a vulnerable position. His handsome face had a long, bloody scratch running down one cheek, which was inflicted by a stray shard of glass. The aggressor was a middle-aged man who vaguely resembled him, presumably his father.

Amy looked back to Derek in order to ascertain what they ought to do and his expression was unexpectedly pensive.

"What are you thinking?" she wondered aloud.

"It's a good thing you wanted to see what was going on," he started ambiguously.

"Why?" she prodded.

"Because I think we've found our newest packmember."

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**Author's note: Please review! And let me know what you think of how the season is progressing!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: Hey guys! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I really appreciate it! It's seems like you guys aren't too bothered by the fact that this story is now super AU, and I'm really glad for that! I hope you all like this chapter.**

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**Chapter 4**

"We can't just barge in there!" Amy exclaimed, keeping her tone low in order to avoid detection.

"I know that, obviously," Derek replied with a customary, exasperated roll of his eyes. "We have to wait for the right moment and observe him for a bit. But he definitely has potential."

She whirled her head back towards the window to look at him again, only to see that he hadn't moved from his prone position in the corner. He didn't look particularly ambitious. "Potential?" she repeated wryly.

"Potential as in his life would be made better by the bite," Derek clarified.

"Oh." That much seemed true. "Poor kid," she mumbled under her breath. She had probably seen him everyday at school, and yet she had absolutely no idea that he lived under such horrible circumstances. What's more, she really didn't even know who he was. She felt a jab of guilt pierce her chest. It dawned on her then that she and her friends were so consumed by their own trials and tribulations that they failed to realize that others also endured hardships of their own.

Derek looked at her tranquilly, able to sense the pity she was feeling. He felt the same, and he was reminded of one of the main reasons why he cared for her so; despite everything, despite all the awful things that had happened as of late, she retained her human empathy. But she was still only a newborn werewolf – he hoped she wouldn't lose this quality. For many years, he had lost it, but little by little it seemed to be slowly returning, largely because of her. Since his family had perished in that fire those many years ago, he had always thought that he was incapable of being "fixed" and scoffed at the very notion of it. But maybe he had been wrong. He needed to be emotionally stable now, now that others looked to him for guidance, and maybe he shouldn't have been so confident that his like would forever be so dismal.

But now was not the time for optimism. He wasn't just starting a pack or creating a family – he was building an army. He was preparing for war.

Eventually, the father ceased his bombardment of dishware and stomped over to his son. Amy flinched visibly as he grabbed him by his curly mop of hair and dragged him out of view, presumably to execute an even more atrocious form of abuse. They heard his body thump against wood as he was dragged down a flight of stairs, at which point it became difficult to decipher exactly what they were hearing. One thing that cut through the cement walls of the basement, though, was the sound of screaming.

Derek quickly decided that it was time to go, as Amy was becoming more and more emotionally disturbed by the second.

"Let's get out of here," he prompted, ushering her away from the house.

"You're sure we can't do something now?" Her voice was pleading.

"We can't." He sounded almost disappointed. "We have to wait until the right time. As soon as I'm sure that this is a good idea I'll change him, I promise." _I promise_. He never would have added that last bit before. He was changing.

When they got back to their dark apartment, Derek tried not to wince as they crossed the threshold. It still felt as though that part of the building was haunted. Once they climbed upstairs, Amy immediately stated that she needed to take a shower.

She ran all the taps in the bathroom to disguise what was really going on: she was crying. She was crying and she didn't want him to know, and it wasn't hard to figure out why. He didn't even need to hear her to know. What they had seen had brought back memories of her own father. Perhaps it was just human nature – once you saw how bad some people had it, it wasn't hard to appreciate your own situation. And her father hadn't been like this boy's, not at all. He knew her father had been harsh and sometimes cruel, but he had loved her and would never have treated her like that.

Derek's suspicions were exactly right. Amy tried not to let the tears prick her eyes, she really did. And she thought she was past this, past this spontaneous crying and this feeling that something was looming over her, that some tragedy was following her so closely that she could never escape it. She was suffocating, the walls were closing in. The cold tile grew closer and the water was drowning her and she coughed, she coughed, but she could not get any air. Suddenly, she wasn't in the shower anymore and she was on the bed. And she was shaking violently, she was shaking and she couldn't get warm. Her heart was racing faster than it ever had, faster than anyone's heart should ever race, and yet she was still so incredibly cold. It felt like it was hammering against her ribcage, like it was beating so quickly that it was about to explode. And she feared that it would.

"Amy, Amy, snap out of it!" Derek's voice cut through the terror and whirl of sensations. She was hyperventilating. She felt that her chest was being crushed under an enormous pressure. Her thin, shivering form was wrapped in a towel and he held her close to his body, trying to share his heat. He was soaking wet, but still warm.

And eventually, the world stopped trembling and she realized where she was and, more importantly, that she was safe. As the intense dizziness wore off she clutched Derek for dear life. She had stopped crying, she had stopped shaking, and now her body was too fatigued to do anything else but collapse onto him.

"What's wrong with me?" she mumbled, her voice strained.

"I'm not sure," he replied softly.

"Was that a side effect of the transformation?"

He chewed his lower lip, as if he didn't want to share his thoughts with her. If it was a side effect, it certainly wasn't one that he had ever encountered before. The hesitance in his reaction was regrettably apparent.

"What?" she questioned.

"I don't think that was a side effect," he said. "I think that was a panic attack."

"A panic attack?" she repeated, as if he had betrayed her. "I don't get panic attacks."

"You might." He looked at her as if she was a strange sight. Just hours ago she had been back to her old self and playfully mocking him, and now she looked like a wounded bird. He wondered for how much longer she would oscillate between these two extremes. "Maybe it is a side effect," he tried to reassure her. "Your body is probably stressed from everything that's happening. I'm not surprised that this happened, to be honest. You've been through a lot in a short period of time."

"It wasn't a panic attack," she insisted. It wasn't. She was strong.

"Fine, it wasn't a panic attack. But I think I'm going to take care of the new kid by myself. You need to take it easy. And before you even try to protest – which I know you will – this is not negotiable."

"You have no right to tell me what to do, you're not my parent!" She pulled away from him, instantly missing the warmth.

"About this, yeah, I do," he stated calmly. "You have enough on your plate with the full moon coming up. You don't need any more stress."

"I don't need you to protect me," she scoffed.

Derek almost laughed in her face at the naivety of her comment. "Regardless of whether or not you think that, it's still my responsibility as an Alpha."

Both he and Amy knew that wasn't the only reason, and she was secretly glad that he was protective of her. It felt nice to know that someone on this earth genuinely cared about her.

"I'm going to follow him home from school tomorrow and you're going to stay here, okay?"

"I don't need to be treated like something is wrong with me."

"Amy, I shouldn't have even had you come tonight in the first place. It's too soon after everything. I should have known better."

"I'm _fine_."

"You're clearly not, after what just happened. I had to carry you out of the shower – you were freaking out."

She stayed silent. Maybe he was right. "Okay, but what am I supposed to do all day? Just sit around and wait for you to come back?"

"I don't know, Amy, do I look like a camp counselor to you?" he said dryly. "You're a big girl, I trust you can figure it out."

**XXXXX**

The next afternoon, Derek left the apartment to track their intended packmate as soon as school let out. It had been a fairly boring day, all things considered, until she received a call from Stiles.

"What's up?" she answered.

"We need to talk. _Now_."

"Why, what happened?"

"Scott and I are on our way over. Is Derek there?"

"No, actually."

"Even better. See you soon."

Now thoroughly perplexed – and, not to mention, worried – Amy could do nothing but wait for her friends to arrive. It was only a matter of minutes before she heard Stiles' dodgy Jeep wheeze to a halt outside the building, followed by two sets of sneakers shuffling against the pavement. She was able to anticipate their knocking before Stiles' fist ever came in contact with the wood; she opened the door abruptly and nearly sent him tumbling to the ground. Scott seemed mildly impressed, but the look was fleeting and he soon pushed his way past Stiles' precariously balanced figure and up the stairs.

"Sure, come on in," she muttered in his wake. Stiles followed Scott, and their friend begrudgingly trailed behind.

Once within the confines of Amy and Derek's apartment, Scott burst out, "Jackson wasn't in school today."

Trying to play it cool, Amy replied, "So?"

"I know you guys turned him!"

Still floundering to remain calm, she insisted, "I don't know what would make you say that."

"C'mon, we're not stupid," Stiles scoffed. He glanced tauntingly to Scott and continued, "At least _I'm_ not." Clearly, he was trying to lighten the mood, as his friend's emotions now threatened to run out of control.

"Stop it Stiles, now's not the time! Do you have any idea what you guys have done?!"

"Look, Derek made the judgment call, not me. If you have an issue with it, take it up with him."

"Aha!" Stiles exclaimed triumphantly. "So you did turn him!"

"What – no – that's not…" Amy trailed off nervously, obviously caught in her lie. "Okay, fine, we did, but so what? He's probably just feeling a little sick, nothing to be alarmed about. Didn't you feel weird after you were first bitten?"

"Yeah, but that's beside the point!" Scott pressed. "I warned you, I told you guys not to do it. We can't trust Jackson, we really can't."

"It's too late now…" Stiles murmured.

"No shit! And now – as if things weren't bad enough to begin with – something even worse is gonna happen! Where is Derek right now."

Amy shrugged nonchalantly, but her heart rate betrayed her. Scott snapped his head to look at Stiles, the gears in his brain slowly turning. He knew Derek, and he knew that he wouldn't leave Amy alone unless he was going to do something… dangerous. "We've gotta find him."

"Okay," he agreed.

"Stiles, wait." She lightly touched his upper arm, causing him to stop abruptly in his tracks. Scott was already gone.

"I just wanted to talk to you for a sec."

He made a pained expression and looked towards the door. "Can't it wait?"

"Not really." Her tone made him give her his full attention.

"What is it?" he asked more gently, searching her eyes for some sort of explanation.

"You told me once," she started, swallowing heavily. "You told me once that you used to get panic attacks."

Stiles wet his lips and looked away briefly, as if he were embarrassed. "Yeah?"

"I think I might have gotten one yesterday… What does it feel like?" she asked in a hushed voice.

He looked towards the ceiling and let out a mirthless laugh. How could he even begin to describe what it felt like? "You'll know it when you feel it," was the best he could manage.

"I felt like I was drowning, like I couldn't breathe. Like I was going to die."

"That sounds about right," he replied darkly. Amy's big blue eyes swam with emotion, and she looked lost; at that moment he truly wanted to help her, but didn't know how. "Look, if it happens again or gets really bad, you could probably get a doctor to prescribe you something."

Now it was her turn to laugh humorlessly. "I doubt it'll work on me."

Oh, how he had almost forgotten. They were not so alike anymore, at least not in this one, very important way.

Scott honked the horn loudly and the noise caused the pair to break out of their heart-to-heart. "We can talk about this more later if you want, but right now I really have to go," he told her.

"Okay," she finally allowed. "But please, just trust me on this one – Derek knows what he's doing, and he needs to do this. _We_ need him to do this. There's no other way. Sacrifices have to be made."

"But these are people's _lives_, Amy!"

"Yeah, and these are _our_ lives, Stiles, and without this we will die!"

They had clearly reached a moral impasse. He held her gaze for a moment longer, before finally slipping out the door.

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**Author's note: What do you all think of the story so far? The show? Let me know!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Hi everyone! Thanks so much for all the reviews, for this story and for the last one! I'll just mentioned one more time that I am aware that my stories are super AU due to the fact that I wrote them before a lot was revealed, and hence I made some stuff up that isn't canon with the show. I can't really do too much about it now, unfortunately! But I appreciate the reviews so much! And again unfortunately, like I mentioned before, I'm super busy abroad and I would love to respond to all the reviews individually, but I barely have time to write in the first place! And I think you guys would rather I keep posting than just answer your reviews ;-)**

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**Chapter 5**

It was only after she heard Stiles' Jeep chug off into the distance that Amy realized she really ought to follow them. The prospect of the two running into Derek during the act of creating a new werewolf was beyond troublesome; even though she really couldn't be of _that_ much help, what with her powers in such an unpredictable state, she liked to think of herself as a diffusing presence.

Luckily, despite the fact that she had yet to experience even one full moon, she did indeed still reap the benefits of enhanced eyesight, which meant that she didn't need to use her car's headlights. As such, she was able to follow Scott and Stiles relatively closely. And although she didn't know how to find Derek or even where he was, she assumed that Scott, as a more experienced werewolf with a finer tuned sense of smell, was leading the way.

She assumed correctly. Soon enough, they arrived at the Beacon Hills cemetery. She parked her car in the grass, far away from where Scott and Stiles were.

Amy had no idea _why_ they were there, but she certainly wasn't enthused by the fact that they were. The curtain of night had fallen and the location was certainly sufficiently creepy; a wispy veil of fog covered the damp grass and a symphony of crickets created a thick layer of background noise.

She shrunk behind a mossy tombstone and watched the turmoil unfold. Scott, fully transformed, and Stiles rushed out of the Jeep just as it came to a halt, towards Derek. She couldn't quite make out what Derek was doing, but she prayed that he had already accomplished what he had set out to.

Scott and Stiles also disappeared into the shadows, and she quickly found it necessary to move closer in order to see what was happening.

"Stop!" Scott's raspy voice, halfway between a shout and a howl, rang out against the eeriness.

Derek turned abruptly to face him, also fully transformed, with his eyes glowing crimson. "It's already done," he snarled in return. He sounded almost smug, but Amy felt a wave of relief. Behind him, she could make out the indistinct form of her classmate and, she supposed, brand-new packmate. He was squirming on the ground, clearly in pain.

Amy hoped to god that they wouldn't start fighting, but Scott looked absolutely furious. He lifted a clawed hand and Derek stiffened, visibly readying himself for a strike. Scott was growing stronger fast, but he was still no match for Derek. On the other hand, though, she also doubted that Derek would ever truly injure Scott.

Just as Scott started to deliver the blow, Amy stood to call out; however, before she could say anything, someone beat her to it.

"Wait!" the person on the ground shouted.

Scott stopped short and spun around, having heard the grass move as Amy stood.

"Amy?" said Stiles, squinting to get a better look at her.

"Yeah, it's me," she announced hesitantly. She jogged over to meet the group, while Derek and Scott returned to their human forms.

"I thought I told you not to come," Derek stated dryly.

"Yeah, well, clearly circumstances changed," she justified, gesturing to Scott and Stiles.

The curly-haired boy tiredly raised himself off of the ground, clutched his side, and said, "Um, can anyone explain to me what's going on right now?"

"Remember the 'others' I was telling you about?" Derek began, "Well, these are two of them."

"Amy and Scott," Isaac said in acknowledgement. He said the names in an almost rehearsed fashion, like they had just recently been mentioned to him.

Stiles cocked his head and studied the boy in curiosity. "Hey, you go to Beacon Hills High," he noted after a moment.

"Yeah, I'm Isaac. I know who you guys are, I've seen you around."

The three high schoolers looked rather sheepish for not having known his name.

Having gotten the rather arbitrary introductions out of the way, Scott allowed his anger to flow through him once again. He squared his body to face Derek and hissed, "You can't keep doing this!"

"It's alright," Isaac cut in, trying to quell the dispute. "He explained it to me – it was my choice."

Scott shook his head wildly. "You can't possibly be able to make that choice," he told him gravely. "Especially not in such a short period of time. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

"You don't know anything about me," Isaac countered. "You didn't even know my name. You're not in any position to tell me what choices I can and can't make."

Both Scott and Stiles seemed taken aback by this hostility. In fact, even Amy was a bit surprised.

"Derek told me everything," he said, mainly to Scott. "He told me how his uncle turned you and how you think it ruined your life. But I've seen you around at school, Scott, your life has always been so different from mine. Sure, you didn't get to start on the lacrosse team, but I have problems – _real _problems – that this can solve. You have no idea what sort of issues I have, or how they can be – _will be_ – washed away with this."

"Whatever problems you had," Stiles replied, "I promise you that this is going to bring on a whole flood of new ones. _Worse_ ones."

Isaac shook his head just as Scott had done, his locks of hair catching the light. "You don't understand," he muttered simply.

Neither Scott nor Stiles pressed the matter. Judging by Amy and Derek's silence, they assumed that the pair of them had more prior knowledge than they did, and they seemed very grim. It briefly flitted through Stiles' mind that perhaps Derek hadn't been as misguided as he had previously suspected, but he also expected that more information would surface as time progressed.

And granted, from the insanely short amount of time that they had known him, Scott and Stiles both found that Isaac had a trustworthy way about him; at least, he appeared to be loyal to Derek.

Jackson, though, still worried them immensely.

"I'm not convinced, but this isn't even our biggest problem right now," Scott said eventually. "Jackson is gone. Like, _gone_."

"Just because he wasn't at school today doesn't mean he's gone," Amy said in frustration. "Like I said before, he's probably just not feeling too great after the whole, you know, being turned into a werewolf thing."

Scott sunk into a sitting position on top of a nearby tombstone and wove his fingers through his hair. "I can't explain it," he said. "I just _know_ that something is wrong, that he is gone. I just know."

Derek seemed at least mildly concerned by Scott's explanation. "What do you mean you just 'know'?" he interrogated.

"It's just a feeling. A horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, like right before something really, really bad is going to happen."

"Is this a werewolf thing?" Stiles questioned, looking to Derek for some sort of clarification.

"It could be," he admitted reluctantly. "I'll go and check on Jackson in the morning."

"It won't matter," Scott mumbled. "It's already too late."

"Did you go to Jackson's house? Do you know he isn't there?" Amy demanded.

"Yeah, we went after school. He wasn't there."

Amy bit her lip, growing more worried by the second; and it didn't help that Derek's face was contorted into a deep frown, betraying that he was also beginning to grow more concerned.

Trying to remain in control of the situation, Derek repeated, "Like I said, I'll go and check on him in the morning. Until then – " He stopped abruptly, effectively causing everyone else to panic.

"What is it?" Amy hissed.

"There are other people here."

Without further notice, a bullet whizzed past Stiles' head and lodged itself in a nearby tree trunk. The werewolves in the group heard the crunch of leaves as several pairs of footsteps drew nearer and nearer.

"Time to go," Derek muttered. "We need to get out of here _now_."

No one needed to be told twice. The five of them piled into Stiles' Jeep, and he drove away as fast as the car would allow him to. An enormous black Escalade soon appeared in the rearview mirror, alerting them all to the Argents' arrival.

"Shit shit shit," Stiles chanted, his eyes darting frantically between the road and the mirror.

"See what I was talking about before?" Scott yelled to Isaac from the front seat.

The latter kept silent, ostensibly rethinking his decision. Amy felt him shift uncomfortably against her, since she was crammed between him and Derek. Isaac didn't have nearly as much sheer mass as the incredibly muscular Alpha, but he was certainly lankier; his spidery limbs seemed tangled in the inadequate amount of foot space in front of him. She was wedged so firmly between the two of them that she could hardly turn around to see the Argents through the back window.

Amy glared daggers at the back on Scott's head and said, "Isaac, this is why we need you. We're not strong enough on our own."

He faced her with lost, puppy-dog eyes, like he had no idea how he could possibly help them. She realized suddenly, now that she could get a good look at him, that he physically resembled her brother, Ian, in many ways. His hair and eyes, in particular, seemed almost identical, and even their names were similar. Sure, Isaac's face was far more angular than her little brother's, but a certain resemblance still existed. She felt a pang of sadness. Although she and Ian had had their disputes, he had been there to protect her when it truly mattered. It hurt her to think that it might even be years before they saw one another again.

She was ripped from these thoughts as a bullet ricocheted off the metal bumper of Stiles' Jeep.

"Just lose them, Stiles, we're not at all prepared for a confrontation," Derek ordered.

In the past year or so, Stiles' confidence in his driving skills had increased exponentially. Such car chases had hardly become out of the ordinary, and it was safe to say that he had achieved a good amount of practice. And while Stiles was never calm, he was currently no more panicked than he normally was. He veered sharply to the left, onto a dirt path; luckily, his Jeep faired pretty well on uneven terrain, but the Argents' SUV was made for these sort of off-road excursions.

However, after a great deal of winding and turning (with the headlights off, mind you), they eventually managed to evade the Argents. The only problem was, they were now completely, utterly, and hopelessly lost in the woods.

"Where the hell are we," Scott wondered aloud blankly, once the adrenaline of the pursuit had worn off.

Amy nearly climbed on top of Derek in order to look out the window, only to come to the conclusion that she, too, had absolutely no clue where they were. Not that she expected she would. "Derek?" she prompted. Out of everyone, he was definitely the most likely to know where they were and, more importantly, how to get back to civilization.

"Nope," he stated, disappointing them all.

"You're supposed to know these things," Stiles complained. "Didn't you, y'know, live in the woods for like five years?"

"No," he said flatly, his tone containing the slightest trace of offense. "Plus, you're the one who got us into this mess, Stiles, so you should be the one to figure it out."

"Um, you're welcome, by the way! And also, I'm the _only_ human in this group. Can't you guys like sniff our way out of this or something?"

Derek didn't say so, but he supposed they could, if they really had to. However, the last thing he wanted to do was to give Stiles more fuel for the dog comparisons he had become so fond of.

"I'll just use the GPS on my phone," Amy said exasperatedly. "Also," she told Derek as an afterthought, "I left my car at the cemetery…"

"I'm sure it will be fine," he assured her. They could easily retrieve it in the morning, on their way to check on Jackson. It was what they might find – or, rather, _not _find – at Jackson's house that truly worried him.

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**Author's Note: Let me know what you guys think! I'd love to get a bit more feedback and apparently my cajoling can sometimes incite reviews :-p**

****SPOILERS****

**And let me know what you think of the show and especially Derek's love interest! I know I am extremely biased, but I am not a fan. Maybe it's just jealousy talking (lol), but I feel like they are making the relationship move at hyperspeed. Derek is so prickly, what are they doing?! Maybe I'm speaking too soon and he knows something that we don't. Was she healing him? Does sex heal werewolves? Cuz that would have been nice to know earlier lmao. Also I feel like Stiles didn't grieve nearly enough when Derek was "dead" in the last episode! I mean c'mon, it was such a good opportunity to make them all sad and such, and sad Stiles just makes my heart break (in a good way, is that weird?). But at least they squeaked that in last episode omfg that speech about them being brothers I could not deal. Also wtf that motel was mad nice (with the very large exception of the bathroom), why was everyone complaining about how gross it was?! I was just confused in general. But I'm glad we got some backstory on Boyd. Anyway yes, it's been a long time since I ranted and that's what wanted to say. Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Although there are far fewer of you than I would have liked/expected, I especially appreciate those who did indeed take the time to let me know what they thought. I hope you guys all like this chapter!**

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**Chapter 6**

The full moon was in one week. And although Derek now had what could be numerically considered to be a "complete" pack, he was still far, far away being in control of the situation. It was this very issue that brought him to Jackson's house early on a sunny, weekday morning.

Jackson's affluent albeit adoptive parents might have been what some would call workaholics, and as such were nowhere to be found; while their jobs did indeed necessitate long hours at the office, they also required frequent business trips. This week, almost conveniently, was one of the many that they were away for. The unfortunate flip side of this coin meant that no one had been keeping track of Jackson's whereabouts since Derek had turned him.

Derek knew that he should have been more diligent with Jackson. He should have kept a closer eye on him and he should have made sure that he clearly outlined every aspect of the transition, like he did for Isaac. Instead, he had been so consumed with the task of putting together a pack that he had failed to realize he was neglecting Jackson – in his effort to be a proper Alpha, he had ironically ignored his existing duties.

All he could do now was hope that there was still time to rectify the situation.

Sure enough, as he had expected and feared, Jackson's house was empty when he arrived. But there were traces of Jackson in his bedroom; his sheets had been slept in only two nights before, and his mirror was shattered, as if someone had punched it. He was gone, but he was not long gone.

Not wanting to waste more time, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Jackson's number. He knew it was highly unlikely that he would answer, and so he wasn't surprised when he was sent straight to voicemail.

"Shit," he muttered to himself. This did not bode well for anyone – if Jackson still hadn't been found by the time the full moon came around, he could put himself and those around him in an enormous amount of danger. And whatever happened, to him or to anyone else, would be Derek's responsibility – Derek's _fault._ Again, he could hardly believe he had been so negligent.

What he had to do now was obvious: he had to search for him. Letting Jackson go through his first full moon alone could mean the death of yet another innocent and more blood on his hands.

**XXXXX**

When Amy walked into the kitchen that morning, Derek was already gone and Isaac had helped himself to a rather large plate of eggs and a glass of orange juice.

"Derek said it was fine," he said sheepishly in response to her quirked eyebrow.

Her eyes darted to the rumpled sofa, where he had slept the previous night, and then back to him. The scent of blood seeping from his wound had waned during the night. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Better, now that I've had something to eat. I have to admit, though, I had some really strange dreams last night… Dreams about killing things… About killing people…"

"That's to be expected, I think. Scott actually wandered off into the woods in his sleep when he was first turned, so for you I'd say so far so good."

Isaac grimaced and nodded, eyes cast downwards. "Is that why Derek wanted me to stay here? To make sure I didn't wander off and… kill someone?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, but quickly felt very inconsiderate. "Probably. But you're fine for now – we just have to make sure that you continue to be fine for the next few days. Do you think your dad will be wondering where you are?"

At the mere mention of his father, Isaac flinched visibly. "For sure," he answered grimly.

"Maybe you could call him just to let him know you're all right?"

He seemed pensive, but eventually decided, "I think I oughtta to do it in person. Derek said I could stay here as long as a need to, so I honestly think I should just say my final goodbyes."

"You're never going back?" She understood. Of course she understood; she had been in a similar position such a short time ago… But somehow, she regretted it. She wished she'd spent more time with her family when she had still had the chance. But her circumstances had been far different from Isaac's.

"How can I?" he replied, scratching his head in lament.

She nodded curtly. She had seen. "What he did to you…"

"I don't want to talk about it," he snapped quickly. All of a sudden, his cup shattered in his hand, sending shards of glass and a spray of orange juice throughout the room. Isaac's eyes – his blue eyes – flashed a dangerous yellow. His eyes, so unlike hers, glowed the color of embers. They were the same as Scott's, the same as her brother's. And she realized then, suddenly, that she was different, that Derek had been different, and she didn't know why.

Isaac's injured hand quickly repaired itself and he watched in unabashed fascination as the skin of his palm knitted itself back together. "S-sorry," he eventually stammered, thoroughly shocked by the whole ordeal.

"It's alright. It's normal," she said, grabbing a dishtowel and mopping up the mess.

He bent down to help her and, consequently, put them in a very close proximity to one another. He could smell the strangest things wafting off her. She smelled familiar, but he couldn't exactly place why. And then he realized – "You smell like Derek," he couldn't help himself from blurting out.

Shuffling away awkwardly, Amy responded, "Ummm yeah… That's because we're… together. That's what happens." His face went red, as if the thought had never occurred to him but it really should have. She, in turn, discreetly took a moment to take in his scent – if they were going to be packmates, she figured they were going to get to know each other _pretty_ _well_ in the coming months, and they had to start somewhere. Beneath the sour smell of blood and citrus, his scent was not unpleasant. But it was nothing like Derek's. There was, though, some common, woodsy strain that lead her to believe it was the result of Derek being Isaac's Alpha.

The pair spent the rest of the day in the apartment conversing. Amy did her best to answer his questions and, while she was fairly equipped to do so, she was no Derek, and there were still many things that she herself was curious about. Namely, her icy blue eyes.

It was several hours before the Alpha returned; when he did, his packmates could sense he was in a foul mood from the moment he entered the building.

"Jackson is gone," Derek announced upon crossing the threshold to the apartment. He threw his keys down on the end table near with a resounding clang and let the door slam closed behind him. Amy was sitting on the sofa with Isaac, who had not been feeling well enough to make it to school.

"How could Scott have known?" she demanded.

"I – I'm not sure. Werewolves have a general awareness of each other, but, since I turned him, it should have been me to sense that he was gone. But I feel something now, like something strange is going on in Beacon Hills."

"Something stranger than a town full of werewolves?" Amy quipped, for a moment feeling very much like Stiles.

He shot her a stony, unamused look, as if to remind her of the gravity of the situation. "This is a huge problem," he articulated dryly.

With her first full moon approaching rapidly, though, Amy was very aware of the hormones in her body going absolutely haywire and very _un_aware of everything else. And it was especially hard to concentrate on strategic matters while Derek was nearby. Pretty much every emotion that a person could feel was magnified: heightened senses, volatile temper, mood swings, increased sex-drive, the whole nine yards. She felt like she was going through the absolute worst case of PMS she had ever experienced, multiplied tenfold and even this seemed to be heightened now that she was seeing Derek for the first time that day.

Amy had felt the effects of the transformation before, right after the Incident, but only mildly – it was partially for this reason that she was so surprised by how much she was being affected now. What with her genetics and such, she had incorrectly assumed that she would somehow be immune to the lunacy (if you'll pardon the pun) that ensued as the full moon approached.

Derek, being far more knowledgeable in these matters than anyone else, was fully aware of the "symptoms" that displayed themselves during this tumultuous week. It was all perfectly normal, what she, as a new werewolf, was feeling. And what he, as an Alpha, was feeling. And what she was feeling for him. And what he was feeling for her. And the fact that they both so clearly wished for Isaac to be gone, but, at the same time, knew that his presence was necessary if not for the sole reason that he kept them on track, and – more importantly – kept them from pouncing on one another and forgetting all about Jackson.

Amy swallowed heavily, trying to ignore the sound of her heartbeat ringing loudly in her ears. Even though she was seated, she felt dizzy. "So what's the next step, then?" she managed.

Isaac was not oblivious to what was happening around him. He hardly knew these people, and yet he couldn't deny that every fiber in his being trusted them without question. And due to this automatic sort of caring, he looked at her in the same vaguely concerned manner he had adopted throughout the day. But now that he was observing her with Derek, he found the scents that he couldn't identify whirling around in the apartment to be even more perplexing and overwhelming. Given the relationship between them, he decided it was something that was probably best not to ask about. He began to rethink if his living there was actually a good idea…

"We should find him," Derek said. "We _have_ to find him. Before the full moon." And now that it was already late afternoon, they had already lost a precious day.

"You think something is wrong?" Isaac questioned.

"Something has to be wrong," he insisted. "It's the only explanation."

As if on cue, Amy's phone began to ring. It was Stiles. "Hello?" she answered.

"You have to come to the hospital _now_."

"Why?"

"They found a body."

"Who?" she interrogated, growing increasingly worried by the second.

"I don't know. That's what we're trying to find out right now."

"Who found it?"

"The police in the next town over. But the body was just identified and apparently it's someone from Beacon Hills High."

"When did they find it?"

"A couple of days ago."

A deep sense of dread pierced her heart. "Do you think it's…?"

"Maybe. The timing is right."

"Okay, we're on our way."

**XXXXX**

The hospital was utter chaos. Police cars had swarmed the parking lot, their lights flashing red, blue, and white. In addition, Amy and Isaac recognized several Beacon Hills High students' cars crookedly and randomly parked nearby.

The three flooded out of Amy's car, which was more practical than Derek's, and rushed into the building. Her keen hearing could pick up voices, could pick up the rumors swirling in the corridors. They said it was Jackson.

When the glass doors slid open in front of them, welcoming them to this horrendous place that reeked of chemicals, death, and sickness, they were met with the sight of Scott, Stiles, Allison, and Lydia. It was the first time Amy had seen either of her female friends since the Incident.

And in the whirlwind of it all, everyone had forgotten that Amy was supposed to be in hiding. And she had just walked into the very place that she had recently escaped from.

It wasn't long before someone recognized her.

"Amy?" Scott's mother, a nurse, questioned. Surprise was etched into her kind features.

Amy's blue eyes widened.

"Mom!" Scott shouted. His call interrupted them, and gave Amy just enough time to slip unnoticed, through the throng of police and reporters and out the door. Once out in the cover of the night air, she felt safe. Stiles was occupied with the task of pestering his father, but Lydia and Allison followed Amy. Derek and Isaac stayed with Scott and, therefore, the group split up just as quickly as they had reunited.

Before either Lydia or Allison could get a word in edgewise, Amy said, "What's going on?"

"I'm glad you're all right," Allison said, as if the words had been bubbling inside her and threatening to burst. Blue locked brown. They both immediately understood. Allison had finally chosen a side.

"They found a body," Lydia croaked out. Her uncharacteristically disheveled hair and eyeliner brought them back to the current disaster.

"Do we know who it is?" Amy asked.

"No, but they think…" a sob ripped through her throat, but she continued, "they think it might be Jackson."

"Who?" Amy demanded, less gently than she had intended. "Who thinks that?"

"Scott and Stiles," she said. "Everyone. Everyone thinks it's him." Two pearl-like tears rolled down either side of her face, and even when she cried she was beautiful.

At the realization of everything, Amy felt like she might faint. An enormous heat traveled from her heart, through her veins and throughout her body. A fire warmed her from head to toe. She felt so many emotions that she couldn't make sense of them. Pity. Fear. Sadness. Anxiety. She hadn't been friends with Jackson, but the thought have having one more person die, one more person leave her life, was horrifying. Not to mention the implications this would have for Derek's pack… And Lydia, poor Lydia. She must have been so confused… Someone would have to let her know what was really going on, and soon. The lack of information she had been given had been meant to protect her, but now it only put her at risk.

All of a sudden, Stiles rushed out of the building, clearly out of breath from running. "It is, it's him," he gasped incoherently. "It's Jackson."

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**Author's Note: Please review! I'm going to change a lot from the series and I have a lot of surprises to come ;-)** **And let me know what you think of the show! How did you all feel about the last episode? Idk how I feel about flashbacks... Also, I know I criticize this show a lot lol, but I only do it because I care. If I didn't, I don't think I could write 3 stories about it.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: I hope you guys all like this chapter! Thank you so so much to everyone who reviewed the last one, I really appreciate it! Seriously, if you guys have any input/advice please let me know! I do have a plot already planned out, but I am flexible! Any ideas are more than welcome.**

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**Chapter 7**

"_No_!" Lydia shrieked, falling. She sank to her knees and Stiles was there, as he always had been and always would be, to catch her. He held her, pet her strawberry-blonde locks and repeated, "I'm sorry," over and over again, until the sound of his voice faded off into the darkness and the noise of cars in the distance. But he had nothing to be sorry about. It wasn't his fault.

This was the only time they had seen Lydia's masquerade of perfection falter – and it hadn't just faltered, it shattered. It had been a long time since Amy had witnessed someone in so much agony. She though perhaps the last person she had seen in such a state had been herself.

Several silent tears trailed down Allison's face, but, overall, she was incredibly composed.

And Amy felt nothing, now that the news was confirmed. It was strange, how she could be so overwhelmed with emotions one moment and so devoid of them the next. She hadn't loved Jackson, or even particularly liked him. She felt distant from Lydia, and she was angry, angry that she couldn't muster the humanity to cry like everyone else. Even Stiles, who hated Jackson, even _Stiles_ was crying. It was strange to watch someone be destroyed like this, to wither away, and feel nothing. All she felt was frustration, frustration with the fact that she couldn't empathize. But she had before, just minutes earlier. Maybe it was just the full moon that was causing this extreme division of emotions. She prayed it was.

"No, no, no," Lydia cried. "This can't – this can't be right." She loved him. Maybe she would always love him; if she did, it would always hurt. "This can't be happening." Her sobs filled the air and no one knew what to do. It all seemed so final.

Scott, Isaac, and Derek appeared. Against the flashing blue, red, and white lights, they looked incredibly somber.

"Is it true?" Amy asked Derek.

He only nodded; his voice was caught in his throat and the words would not come. He had failed. And now, seeing Lydia, seeing them all, he saw the true effect of his failure. It was rare that Derek looked so truly mournful, but, now that he had been confronted with something tangible, guilt gnawed at him. Lydia didn't have the strength to question his and Isaac's presence, and she might never even know that he was the one to blame.

It was only when Amy locked eyes with Derek and Isaac that she felt it – the loss. Like she had been punched, like the air had been sucked out of her lungs. She had no happy recollections of Jackson to dwell on, no colorful collage of memories that flooded her brain when she thought of him, and yet she still felt a void in her chest. It as an itch, a nagging, like she had left the house without something incredibly important – no, that was wrong. Not just something incredibly important, but part of herself. _This is what it feels like to lose a packmate_, she realized. And she never wanted to feel it again.

Isaac felt it, too, judging by the look in his eyes. Derek's hand was on his shoulder in an uncharacteristic display of affection, as if to assure the new werewolf that he would not meet the same fate.

It dawned on her that the reaction was very delayed; Jackson had likely been dead for days, and yet she didn't feel the effect until she saw Derek. Something seemed wrong – off. And surely Derek should have sensed that one of his packmembers had died. He had always stressed how important a pack was, how it operated as one unit. _They_ should have been the ones to find Jackson, to realize that harm had come to him, not the police.

"I want to see him," Lydia said forcefully, pushing Stiles away and wiping her eyes. "I need to see him. I won't believe it until I see…"

"They won't let you," Scott said gravely. "We tried – the only reason we were able to see him was because my mom snuck us into the morgue."

"He can't be dead," she pressed. "He can't be."

"I'm sorry," Derek said. She snapped her eyes to look at him, as if she had just realized he was there. She did not look into his eyes, but instead seemed to see through him. She didn't respond and turned back to Stiles. "Can you take me home, please?" she squeaked.

"Y-yeah of course," he replied, jumping into action. It was only a matter of seconds before he had procured his car keys and ushered her away from them, towards the flashing lights. Before he was out of sight, he shot the group a meaningful look to ensure that they knew to update him later.

Once he and Lydia were out of earshot, Scott informed them, "He was killed by hunters."

"How do you know?" Allison questioned quickly, if not defensively.

"He was cut in half," Derek snapped acidly. Hatred laced his tone – hatred towards hunters, hatred towards Allison, and hatred towards humans in general. As an Alpha, he had wronged no one. The hunters had created all of his struggles, and every action he had taken had merely been borne out of self-defense. He was not aggressive. He was not dangerous. And yet they still treated him with such ignorant contempt. They had driven him into a corner and now he felt like nothing more than the caged, snarling animal they expected him to be. For a werewolf, there was no worse feeling than being trapped. It brought out the worst in them.

"Well, he certainly wasn't killed by my family," she clarified.

"How could you know that?" Derek retorted.

"Because I've been watching them – I would have heard if they'd killed Jackson. Plus, my dad wouldn't kill him without evidence that he'd harmed someone. He may be a hunter, but he sticks to his principles."

"Your father is the least of my concerns. Gerard is the real problem. I think it's clear that he has no boundaries."

Amy bit her lip. "He was the one who stabbed me, Allison."

"I know," she said solemnly, unable to meet the other girl's eyes. "Scott told me. And I've made my decision – so has Scott, after tonight. We're going to help you, we really are. The choice was a whole lot clearer when it became obvious that my family is a threat to my friends' lives. Even if we don't agree with everything you guys are doing, we can't let this continue. But we might be more use to you if we're on the outskirts. I can at least be a sort of double agent. My dad is protecting Scott from Gerard for the time being, but he's not going to make the same exception for you guys and I can't just sit by and let him come after you."

"And if they see you here, talking to us?" Derek probed in annoyance. He didn't want her help, nor did he think they needed it. He had learned all too well that outsiders could not be trusted – there was the pack, and nothing else. If Scott wished to join them, he would accept him with open arms, but that was the extent of it. He did _not_ want any Argent – even Allison – to be involved.

Allison shook her head, chestnut curls bouncing. "As soon as they heard about the body they went to the location where it had been found to figure out what's going on. Honestly, they didn't kill him."

"Could this mean… _More_ hunters?" Amy questioned in panic. Derek looked equally alarmed.

"I guess it's a possibility," Allison answered after a moment. "My dad always told me that our family wasn't the only one."

"It doesn't make sense," Derek murmured, half to himself. "I haven't done anything that would put me on their radar. We're already in deep enough trouble as it is, and if more hunters come it will just be overkill."

"Great choice of words," Amy mumbled darkly.

"But it's true," he persisted. "I haven't done anything that would warrant more hunters coming after me. I turned Isaac and Jackson, but that's it – and that's no more than Peter did before."

"And me," Amy added.

"…And you."

"Didn't you tell me once that werewolves are drawn to packs – to Alphas?" Isaac interjected.

"Yeah," Derek acknowledged, immediately following his train of thought.

"So… What you're saying is maybe these new hunters know something that we don't – maybe there are about to be a whole lot more werewolves in Beacon Hills," Scott finished.

Allison, Derek, Isaac, and Amy looked at one another in trepidation. This seemed like an extremely viable explanation.

Several beats of silence passed. "What do you think Jackson was doing outside of Beacon Hills?" Amy asked quietly. She couldn't believe he was dead. She hated the thought of it, the thought that another person she used to see every day could suddenly vanish. And she had the distinct feeling that Jackson would not be the last.

Scott, on a roll, suggested, "Didn't you guys ever think that maybe Jackson never had any intention of joining your pack in the first place?"

"It might explain why I couldn't sense where he was or what was going on," Derek agreed reluctantly, as if the thought had occurred to him before.

"In any case," Amy started, "he didn't get far. Which means we don't have much time before the hunters show up here."

"We have until right after the full moon," Derek clarified. "They won't attack us before then because it's when we're at our strongest. But immediately after, we're at our weakest."

"If it's true that werewolves are drawn to a pack," Allison started, "don't you think it's weird that there haven't been any new ones in Beacon Hills? Besides the ones you turned, I mean."

"Not if the hunters killed them all before they got the chance to come here," Derek stated bluntly.

"If we're going to help you," Scott began, "you're going to have to stop turning people."

"With you, I'm done. Even without Jackson, I have enough people for a pack." Amy had to admit, this phrasing was clever of Derek. Scott's conscience would fuel his loyalty, if not for the sole reason that it would prevent more innocent people from joining this plight.

"Okay," he agreed. "But I can't be seen with you. Allison's father has been protecting me so far, so Gerard can't know that I'm associated with you."

Derek rolled his eyes in exasperation, but eventually allowed, "Fine. But other than that, you have to do what I ask."

"Alright." Scott's tone made it seem as if he'd just signed his soul over to the devil. Derek extended his hand; it hung there for a heavy moment before Scott tentatively shook it. There was a spark of electricity and their eyes both flashed their respective colors.

"What was that?" Scott asked anxiously.

"It's official. You're part of my pack."

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**Author's Note: I hope you liked it! Please let me know what you think, both about the story and about the show! Let me know if anyone is out of character or if anything is unclear. Thanks for reading :-)**

*****SPOILERS*****

**ALSO, ABOUT THE SHOW: I FUCKING KNEW IT. This is why Derek shouldn't trust anyone. Jesus. Tell me your thoughtsss.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I'm back from abroad so updates should be a bit more frequent. However, I would really love some more feedback from people! It's hard to write without knowing what you guys like/don't like! I hope you all enjoy this chapter...**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

On the day of the full moon, Amy and Isaac were so out of control that Derek seriously contemplated calling Scott for backup. Each was experiencing a completely different array of symptoms; Isaac was furious – furious with himself, furious at the world, furious at everything that moved. Because of this, Derek insisted that Isaac stay home from school so as to avoid an unwanted bought of aggression. It was regrettably quite clear that Isaac very well might beat someone to death just for looking at him the wrong way.

Naturally, Derek urged his two fledgling packmembers to keep stress to a minimum. His express effort to keep the apartment a stress-free zone, however, devolved into complete and utter chaos fairly quickly. Isaac, after playing what was intended to be a relaxing game of Call of Duty (which, apparently, doesn't exist) on the Xbox and losing, hurdled the controller at the television. He would have shattered the screen, had Derek not stepped in and caught the projectile before it made impact.

But Isaac felt a steady sort of rage, and because of this his outbursts were easy enough to predict. Amy was more volatile in the sense that she was experiencing dramatic mood swings; she was riding a rollercoaster of highs and lows. Derek had politely asked her to calm down after she smashed a bowl of cereal earlier in the morning, and she had burst into tears. Then, when he had tried to comfort her, he had to fight to extricate himself from her wanton grasp. He was in no way opposed to such avid displays of affection, but not when Isaac was ten feet away from them. The latter, having just overcome his videogame-directed anger, had thought himself clever in warning Derek and joking that Amy was acting like a pregnant woman – his attempt at humor only earned him a vicious scratch from his female companion. He was lucky he healed quickly.

So, it was safe to say that Derek had his hands full. And when Amy accidentally shattered her seventh glass article of the day, he decided it was time to take a different approach.

"We're not gonna be able to stay here for the full moon," he said finally. "That is, if you don't want to be homeless before the night is over."

"You know, it might be easier if you teach us how to control it," Isaac pointed out snippily.

"There's not enough time."

"You could at least try," he insisted.

"You need to find an anchor – an emotion or a memory that ties you to your human self. It will make it easier for the human part to stay in control."

"What is it for you?" Isaac asked.

Derek's gaze flitted to Amy, almost apologetically. "Anger," he stated. "But it doesn't have to be that for everyone."

"Is it ever anything good?" Amy questioned.

"For some people, I imagine." He had a certain gloomy way about him, as if he knew that all his packmates would be excluded from this group of "some people." But deeper sort of sorrow buried in his eyes told her anger hadn't always been his anchor. "But it takes a while to perfect," he continued. "There's not enough time for me to teach you guys before tonight. And I think we can agree that we can't stay here."

Amy and Isaac locked eyes with one another in understanding – even to them, it was obvious that if their levels of destruction were so high at noon, they would reach untold heights once the sun went down.

"I don't really think your old house is the safest of locations, what with the Argents swarming the woods every night and pretty much using it as their headquarters nowadays," Amy pointed out.

"I have somewhere else in mind," Derek replied cryptically.

**XXXXX**

"Somewhere else," in Derek's words, was apparently meant to be taken literally. Because where they were now, in a deserted subway car far beneath the streets of Beacon Hills, was certainly somewhere else.

A look of sheer and utter disapproval crossed Amy's features the moment she laid eyes on the dingy site. "Are you serious?" she deadpanned, arms crossed over her chest and knee popped out. For a fleeting moment, she looked entirely like an average teenage girl.

Derek's expression, stone cold as always, preempted his response. "Yes," was all he uttered.

She and Isaac eyed the rusty car in distaste; while neither had expected a five star hotel, even this seemed to be a new low. There was a heavy bundle of chains gleaming in the flickering light, serving as an obvious reminder of what was to come.

"How did you even find this place?" Amy asked.

"I started looking underground a while ago… I thought we might need a place like this at some point – a place where you guys could change without trashing anything important or hurting anyone."

It was minutes to sundown. Amy's eyes glowed their icy blue and searched Derek's. "And what about you? What if we hurt you?"

"You won't." His replies were blunt and concise as ever. In a sense, it seemed almost as if he was reverting to the way he'd been when Amy first met him. It meant that something was on his mind, something that he hadn't yet shared with them.

But before she could continue question him, an overwhelming pain shot through her every joint. She cried out and fell to the filthy concrete floor.

"C'mon, we've gotta go," Derek stated, grabbing her around the waist and hoisting her clear off the ground and over his shoulder. Isaac followed obediently into the subway car, but his gritted teeth and hunched posture revealed that he was in an equal amount of pain. Amy screamed again, and this time it morphed, distorted, and became something else. It became a howl.

As if on cue, Isaac sank to his knees. Derek took the opportunity to leave Amy writhing in pain in order to chain Isaac up; Amy was smaller and more easily managed, so he figured he would deal with her once Isaac was secure.

The teen's eyes glowed in the darkness, the color of a dying fire. There was a snap, like all his bones were breaking, and all of a sudden he wore a different face – the face of a monster. His teeth were fangs and his jaws snapped at the empty air, but Derek was unfazed. He had never done this before, but he knew what to expect. He pulled the metal taut, cutting into Isaac's tense muscles. There was blood. He pulled even tighter.

Isaac thrashed and thrashed, but, with each link drawing blood, Derek felt confident that there was no way he was going to be able to get loose. Now, he turned back to Amy. In all the chaos, he had failed to notice that she had gone quiet; she was crouched, fully transformed, and snarling mistrustfully at him. As a female, she would be able to withstand more pain than Isaac – so, although it might be easier to secure her in the first place, it definitely would not be easier to keep her secure.

His eyes were scarlet, and he was still panting from having wrestled with Isaac. "Amy!" he yelled in a warning. His voice was a low rumble, not quite human but not exactly werewolf, either.

She launched herself at him, claws out and canines bared, and went straight for the jugular. In the tangle of nails, teeth, and hair, everything was a blur. He couldn't get a good look at her. And she was strong, perhaps stronger than he had anticipated. Eventually, he gripped her wrists tightly, driving his nails into her skin and causing rivulets of blood to drip from her veins. She fought against him, but he held her firmly.

Through the struggle, he was finally able to catch a glimpse of her face. It was something else. It was bizarre and unfamiliar. She was not beautiful anymore; she was ugly. She was a creature.

But her eyes were still beautiful, and they were the same. They were so blue.

In the background, Isaac rattled his chains noisily. The pole he was tied to creaked and trembled, threatening to fly off its hinges. Derek prayed that it wouldn't, because he wasn't going to be able to mange both of them fully transformed. He thought again that he should have called Scott.

"Amy, it's me, Derek," he growled, shaking her for good measure.

She ceased moving for half a second and studied him like a trapped animal. Her eyes bore into his and he could have sworn that he saw recognition flash in them. But what did she recognize him as? Himself or her Alpha?

It didn't matter – the look was gone as quickly as it came and soon she was trying to squirm out of his grasp once again. Hands still clamped around her wrists, he spun her around so that her arms were crossed over her chest and her back was to him. She was nearly immobile this way, but he couldn't help but think in retrospect that he'd made a horrible mistake. Her mess of brown hair obscured his vision, but his sense of sight was the least of his worries.

He could feel every one of her bones against his body, every disk in her spine and every single rib. It struck him suddenly that she was probably too thin. And lower, below his torso, he could feel the curve of her backside against the front of his jeans. He tried to ignore how good it felt as she grinded against him and he had the uncanny feeling that she knew exactly what she was doing. In fact, with her heightened senses and the fact that it was the full moon, he was wholly convinced that she knew what she was doing. He bit back a smirk, because this was something she would have done, even as a human; even in this feral state, she still enjoyed torturing him in such inappropriate ways.

She suddenly lifted her legs off the ground and pushed off one of the nearby poles, effectively throwing the pair of them back into a decaying subway seat. Derek's back absorbed the brunt of the impact, but he was able to keep Amy pressed tightly against him. As she kicked wildly, he did the first thing that came to mind in order to stop her: he sunk his sharpened teeth into the flesh at the crook of her neck.

The effect was immediate. She let out a high-pitched whimper and let her body go slack in his arms. He hauled her into a standing position and spun her around to face him, and she peered at him apologetically through her impossibly long eyelashes. He was not swayed by this display of submission, though, and proceeded to tie her up the same way he had done with Isaac.

When he was finished, she continued to stare at him and said, "I'm sorry."

He was profoundly surprised that she had mustered the ability to speak. "So you've found an anchor, then?" A trail of blood traveled down her shirt and he felt remorse because he knew it would take a couple of days for her to heal.

"My father."

Nothing else needed to be explained. He nodded sharply and turned his head Isaac, who had also calmed down significantly. "And you?"

"Fear. I felt it all the time before, and I never want to feel it again."

Derek was sure that he couldn't promise him he wouldn't, so he only sighed loudly. Completely exhausted, he sank into one of the dilapidated seats and observed his handiwork. While his two protégés were still very much in their werewolf forms, it seemed like they had gotten a handle on their tempers. Derek couldn't help but feel a swell of pride – maybe he wasn't as awful an Alpha as he'd thought he was.

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**Author's Note: Let me know what you thought! Of the chapter and of the show! What do you guys think of my changes to season 2? And what did you think of Jennifer in the last episode? Please please please please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I hope you all like this one!**

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**Chapter 9**

_They found another body._

This was the phrase – and this alone – that Derek found on his cell phone the morning after the full moon. The text message was from Scott and it relayed no other details. He called him immediately, but was sent straight to voicemail.

_Can't talk. With my mom at the hospital. Looks like a werewolf attack. Amy and Isaac were with you all night, right?_ flashed across his screen seconds later.

_Of course. It wasn't them. Whose body is it?_ was his response. It hurt him to think that Scott had even entertained the possibility that Amy or Isaac had killed someone. His fingertips hovered anxiously above his phone's keyboard as he awaited a reply and he even felt his heartbeat pick up in anticipation. After what had happened with Jackson, it was admittedly somewhat of a comfort to know that his packmembers were safe, but the discovery of another body certainly didn't bode well for any of them. Unless it was one of the Argents, that is…

Scott's answer was merely _Isaac's dad_ without any additional information; he was keeping things quite vague. Derek's expression must have betrayed his surprise and dismay, for Isaac himself quickly questioned, "What's wrong?"

"They found another body," he began cryptically. "But this one wasn't killed by hunters – it was killed by a werewolf."

"Who?" Amy asked.

He glanced from her to Isaac, hesitance shining brightly in his blue-green eyes. When he didn't say anything right away, the other two were easily able to sense that something was wrong.

"_Who_?" Isaac repeated, far more forcefully than Amy had. It was like he already knew.

"Your dad," he grit out quietly.

Isaac took a step back, as if someone has struck him, and shook his head. The motion was not done so much out of disbelief, but because he was having trouble registering Derek's words. Amy put her hand on his shoulder, partially to comfort him and partially to steady him. He blinked rapidly several times and said, almost inaudibly, "My dad is dead?"

"Yeah…" he confirmed. "I – I'm sorry."

"B-but… I don't understand. Why?" He wet his lips, still seemingly unable to process this news. "What – what does he have to do with any of this?"

Derek stared at the dirty floor with a furrowed brow, his face cast downwards; he was frustrated with his inability to provide any answers. He only shook his head and said, "I don't know."

Isaac stumbled to a nearby crate and collapsed, cradling his face in his hands. Amy quickly knelt beside him, knowing all too well the shocked sort of pain he was likely experiencing.

"He was a horrible person," he stated, voice rasping, "but it still hurts."

"I know," Amy soothed. "If anyone understands, it's us."

Isaac sat up straight, and when he revealed his face she noticed that there were no tears staining his cheeks. "We're all alone, aren't we," he said gravely. "My mom is gone, my brother, and now my dad. My whole family. And Derek, your whole family is gone, too. Amy, at least you know that your mother and brother are still alive…"

"I guess in that way I'm lucky," she said. "But we're not alone, not really. We have each other, now. You have us."

Derek stepped forward, looking only mildly uncomfortable with this foreign, quasi-patriarchal role. "She's right," he agreed after a moment. "Being in a pack – when everything's done correctly – is like being in a family. I know that doesn't make it any easier, but at least you know that we're here for you."

Isaac's eyes searched his Alpha's, trying desperately to read the emotions concealed there. He judged that Derek seemed earnest, and because of this he felt immensely relieved. "It does make it easier," he said eventually. "And the father I knew and loved… He's been dead a long time. He's been dead since my brother died in combat. I've been mourning the both of them ever since."

**XXXXX**

"Lydia's moving to Paris," Allison told Amy matter-of-factly as the others – the boys – discussed the death of Isaac's father. The pair of them was sitting on a bench outside the hospital, where it seemed they spent nearly half their time.

"What?" was all Amy could manage. The way Allison had told her – it was like she was telling her that it was supposed to rain, not one of their best friends was moving across the ocean.

"After what happened with Jackson, she said she needs to get away."

"But – it's the second semester of senior year!"

"They're letting her graduate early – you know how smart she is – and she's planning to start at the Sorbonne in the fall."

"But… France… It's so far away…"

"I know. But she's distraught about Jackson and she said that everything here reminds her of him. Plus, she speaks French, and she wants to do this. You know how she is, once she decides to do something there's no stopping her. Maybe this is a good thing."

"A good thing?"

"Yeah. I mean, she doesn't know about any of the you-know-what stuff, and this way she'll at least be out of danger. I honestly think it's for the best. I'll miss her, obviously, but I'd rather know she's safe then have her here."

"Yeah." Allison was right. All of her points were valid, and she truly didn't want Lydia to be in any danger. But Amy couldn't help but feel that horrible albeit familiar tug at her heartstrings because it meant that someone else was leaving her life.

All of a sudden, Scott and Stiles ran out of the hospital, towards them. Allison and Amy stood abruptly, alarmed. There were a whole manner of problems they could be rushing to inform them of; neither even wanted to speculate on what disaster had happened now.

"What's wrong?" Allison questioned.

"It's Isaac," Scott said. "The police are arresting him."

"What? Why?" Amy demanded. They had promised him – she and Derek, they had promised him that they would take care of him. That they would protect him. And just hours later, he was being arrested. She felt sick.

"They think he might have had something to do with his father's murder," Stiles said somberly.

"But it's an animal attack – not a murder," Amy stated.

"That's what it looks like, but they think he might have tried to disguise it as an animal attack. They think he had a motive… Some of the neighbors have said that they heard domestic disputes at the Laheys' house pretty often and they think Isaac might have finally snapped."

"But it's impossible – I can vouch for him! Derek can vouch for him – he was with us…"

"Yeah, that's what Derek's trying to do now. But they're gonna want to know what you were doing and if anyone saw you," Stiles reasoned. "You'll both have to testify. I don't think you should worry, though, there's hardly any evidence."

"But can't they keep him overnight?"

"Yeah, but why does that matter?"

"Because when he's away from us, he's vulnerable – especially since the full moon was last night."

"You think the Argents will try to attack him at the police station?" Scott questioned urgently.

Allison looked particularly pale, as if she agreed with this analysis, but didn't say anything.

"Yes," Amy continued, "I think they're going to try to pick us off one by one. Together we're strong, but alone we're weak – especially me and Isaac."

**XXXXX**

Back inside the hospital, Isaac was being taken away in handcuffs. He didn't protest or resist, and instead seemed so melancholy that he didn't even have the strength to put up a fight. His father was dead, and werewolf powers or no, people still thought he was to blame. It was ironic, he thought.

Derek, however, was furious.

"He was with me and Amy last night," he viciously told Sheriff Stilinski.

"Ah, so Amy is at home," he noted. "I thought as much."

"That's beside the point. Isaac couldn't have killed his father."

"So he's been living with you, then? I heard he'd run away from home shortly before the murder, but I didn't know he'd been staying with you."

"Yes, he was staying with me."

"You know, Derek, whenever a teenager runs away or goes missing in this town, you always seem to be at the center of it. Don't think I didn't see you here the other night when we found Jackson's body."

He only stared blankly at Stiles' father, unsure of how to respond. Eventually, he said, "I guess I just have a soft spot for people who come from troubled homes."

"Ah, so you can confirm that Isaac and his father had a strained relationship."

Derek faltered, "No, that's not – I mean, yeah, but he didn't kill him!"

At this rather obvious display of dismay, Sheriff Stilinski couldn't help but let his hard exterior waver. It was clear to him that Derek genuinely cared about Isaac, which he found somewhat surprising. "Look, we're going to investigate and get to the bottom of this – but we're going to need your and Amy's cooperation. We still haven't even searched the house, but from the sound of things, Isaac's father was abusive. And while that doesn't bode well for Isaac in terms of painting a picture of what might have happened, it can't act as a replacement for hard evidence. To be honest with you, I don't want to lock up a teenager for murdering his own father. Either way, the man is dead and it can't be easy for Isaac, especially if he is innocent. Believe me when I say that I'm going to try to get this cleared up as soon as possible."

Derek's features softened and he allowed himself to trust Sheriff Stilinski's word. "Fine," he said in quiet defeat. "Just don't let anything happen to him."

The other man's eyebrows knit together in confusion – just as he was about to ask for clarification, though, Derek started to walk towards the door.

He left the building just as Isaac was driven away in the back of a police car; he caught a final glimpse of him through the window, looking numb. Derek's chest tightened. He was failing, again. He wasn't cut out for this – this was why he hadn't wanted the responsibility of being an Alpha in the first place. He knew he would screw it up, just like everything else he touched. His life was just one big screw-up.

He soon spotted his teenaged compatriots sitting around a nearby bench, watching the car carrying Isaac drive off into the distance. Amy was the first to notice his presence as he walked towards them.

"What happened?" she asked.

"They're going to keep him in custody until they have further evidence."

"Look, guys, my dad is a good cop," Stiles insisted. "I know him, and he's not going to keep an innocent person locked up without reason. I'm sure that if Isaac has nothing to hide he will be released soon."

"But I already told you, he's still at risk," Amy stated. "If the Argents come for him, it'll be like shooting fish in a barrel."

Allison, speaking for the first time in a while, said, "She's right. There's been a tension between my dad and Gerard because my dad doesn't agree with mindless extermination, but Gerard is going to use this attack as an excuse to persuade my dad to kill Isaac. Whether he's actually guilty or not, this still looks bad for him. We have to protect him."

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**Author's Note: Please let me know what you think! What do you think of the pace? The characterizations? Let me know! :-)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Hey guys, sorry for the delay, I've been super busy lately! Thanks so much to the few of you who reviewed the last chapter. I hope you guys like this one.**

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**Chapter 10**

After Isaac was taken away, the gang decided that the most effective course of action would be to split up: Stiles headed off to the police station to continue to harass his father for information, Allison went home to keep an eye on her family, and Scott, Amy, and Derek convened at the apartment. Amy couldn't help but notice that the last location was quickly becoming a sort of werewolf headquarters as opposed to any real sort of home. Given their situation, though, she supposed this would have happened regardless of where they lived. But the fact remained, her and Derek's home was becoming a pack home. And she theorized it would be this way for the foreseeable future.

"So, what do we do?" Scott asked as the three of them – a somewhat odd grouping – sat at the kitchen counter. The room was still in shambles, a glaring reminder of the previous nights' events. However, Scott seemed oblivious to the state of disarray.

"Should we wait to hear from Allison?" Amy asked.

"No," Derek replied tightly. "The only thing we can do is go there tonight and make sure nothing happens. I don't trust Allison to find out Gerard's plan, let alone tell us what it is. We can't take any chances – we're going there tonight and if they come, we will fight." _We can't take any chances_. They couldn't lose another packmember, not after what had happened with Jackson.

Scott, purposely ignoring the dig at his beloved girlfriend, said, "It shouldn't be too hard to sneak in – Stiles and I used to do it all the time and I know that place like the back of my hand. We just have to wait until tonight, when there will be fewer people in the building."

"Okay," Amy agreed.

Derek gave a curt nod, but, while his eyes were fixed on Scott, he was wearing a somewhat distant expression. Amy understood why – things were escalating at an alarming pace. And while the conflict between the werewolves and hunters careened out of control, Derek's strong leadership became increasingly crucial. He was unsure of his own abilities and, as the situation grew worse and worse, she feared he would pull away and retreat back into his armor of self-loathing. She hoped desperately that he understood how counterproductive this would be, how the lone wolf act was completely contrary to his responsibility as an Alpha. But, despite the fact that she wanted more than anything to be fully confident in his abilities, but she just couldn't say she was. She was plagued by the same niggling sense of doubt he was and she was certain that if she felt it, he felt it ten times worse.

**XXXXX**

As soon as night fell, they rolled out. The three werewolves (plus Stiles) piled into Derek's sleek, two-door Camaro and glided down Beacon Hills' blackened streets. The ink-colored car camouflaged against the darkness like a ghost in the wind; the only thing that wasn't so discreet was the roar of its V8 engine.

Allison had called them earlier in the day to inform them that, just as they had suspected, her family planned to attack Isaac during the night.

"The hardest part is going to be getting past the front desk," Stiles informed them. "One of us should create a distraction while the others go help Isaac. Have you guys heard anything more from Allison?"

"Yeah, she's trailing the hunters," Scott answered. "She's going to try to slow them down, but she doesn't think she'll be able to stop them on her own."

"Of course she won't be able to stop them," Derek nearly scoffed. "I'd be surprised if she's even able to delay them for more than five minutes." With that, he stamped harder on the gas pedal to punctuate the sense of urgency.

When they parked outside the police station, Stiles stared out the window in apparent trepidation.

"What's the matter?" Amy questioned.

"I'm just nervous, is all. The last thing we need is to draw attention to the two of you, that's for sure."

"Hey, I haven't done anything wrong and Derek was exonerated," she protested hotly.

"Yeah, but you're still way too involved with all this stuff that's been going on. My dad is starting to get suspicious of you two, which is really, really not good."

"What are you trying to say?" Derek asked bluntly.

"I'm just thinking maybe you guys should wait for the Argents out here, is all."

"How do we know they're just going to stroll through the front door?" Amy pressed. "Really, I think they'll try to be a bit more subtle than that. Plus, I'd feel a lot better if we could actually _see_ Isaac."

"I don't think you'll be able to see in him the holding cell, but fine, I get your point. Okay then, so the keys to all the cells are in a safe in my dad's office, and luckily I know the combination. We'll just have to distract the officer in the front area."

"I'll do it, then I'll meet you guys in the holding area," volunteered Derek.

"_You'll_ do it?" Amy repeated, as if to make sure she'd heard correctly. Scott and Stiles' blank stares and cocked heads indicated that she was not alone in her bewilderment.

"Yeah, is there a problem?"

"What are you gonna do, punch her in the face?" Stiles snickered.

Derek did not seem even the slightest bit amused. "No," he deadpanned after rolling his eyes in his trademark fashion. The question wasn't as ridiculous as he seemed to think it was, though.

"Seriously," Scott chimed in solemnly, "You can't punch her in the face."

"Keep at it and the only ones who are going to be punched in the face are you two," the black-haired werewolf snapped irritably.

Stiles held his palms up in surrender and mumbled, "Fine," but was clearly not appeased. Amy sent Derek one last, meaningful, don't-fuck-this-up glance, before opening the door and shimmying out of the car; the others followed suit.

Just as the tip of Scott's sneaker-clad foot touched the pavement outside, his phone started vibrating noisily in his pocket. "Just a sec," he told the others, holding one finger up to stop them from entering the building without him.

"The guy they're sending – he's dressed as a sheriff's deputy," Allison blurted out hurriedly. "He's carrying some sort of weird box with him – there's some sort of carving on it, I think it's a picture of wolfsbane. I slashed his tires, but he might still be on his way by now."

"Shit," Scott cursed quietly, looking at his comrades from over his shoulder. His troubled exclamation did not escape anyone's notice.

"What? What does that mean?"

"It means they're going to try to kill him." He hung up quickly and abruptly, immediately informing the others, "They're sending someone dressed as a sheriff's deputy."

"Well, at least now we know what to look for…" reasoned Amy. This knowledge, however, was only a minor consolation.

As if things couldn't get any worse, Scott added, "And he's carrying Blue Monk's Hood."

"Shit," Stiles echoed. "Okay then, we gotta go. Like, now."

The four approached the door to the police station and Derek ventured in first. The officer working the front desk was a neat, pleasant looking woman with her heavily straightened hair swept back into a low ponytail at the base of her neck. She wore her uniform completely to code, with her khaki shirt tucked in, pressed, and unsullied. All in all, she looked like a no-nonsense type of woman. However, she was visibly flummoxed as soon as her dark eyes spotted Derek standing before her, wearing his most winning smile. Amy didn't think he'd ever even smiled at _her_ like that…

The three teenagers observed the scene from the doorway, careful to keep out of sight. Their heads bobbed out from behind the wood in an almost comical fashion, and Stiles and Amy's expressive features showcased their amusement at the scene unfolding in front of them. Though this was neither the time nor place for humor, they couldn't help but snigger at the absurdity of seeing Derek _flirt_ with some random police officer. It was as if some sort of suave, charming young man had temporarily occupied his body.

"Can I help you?" the officer attempted to drawl; it was obvious that she was expending a fair amount of effort just to keep her tone even.

Derek's voice took on an entirely uncharacteristic pitch as he (rather adorably) stammered, "Hi – I um – sorry, I wasn't expecting…"

"Someone like me?" she finished without missing a beat.

"I was going to say someone so incredibly beautiful," he countered cheekily, "But I guess that would be the same thing, wouldn't it?"

Amy desperately clamped a hand over her mouth and nose to prevent herself from snorting loudly, and Stiles rolled his eyes. She tried to beat back an irrational wave of jealousy bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Scott, on the other hand, seemed unfazed as he led them onwards to Sheriff Stilinksi's office. Ignoring the stacks of loose papers and other miscellaneous items strewn about, Stiles entered the correct code into the safe with a distressing level of ease. The door popped open and the other two were already tiptoeing to the holding area by the time he had removed the keys.

Suddenly, as they walked through the hallway, there was a clamor from the front desk. Before they could register what was happening, they were intercepted by two figures, who, upon further examination, turned out to be Derek in hot pursuit of someone dressed as a sheriff's deputy – undoubtedly one of the Argents' minions. The man had a syringe in his hand that Derek was actively avoiding coming in contact with, and the others surmised it must have contained a Blue Monk's Hood concoction.

Amy and Scott sprang into action as Stiles rushed to the holding cell where Isaac was. As he fumbled with the keys, Amy grabbed one of the hunter's arms and Scott deftly grabbed the other – the one that was holding the syringe – and dug his claws into the flesh until his weapon fell to the floor with a clang. An alarming amount of blood began to pool around their feet and Scott immediately loosened his grip. Derek came up behind their apprehended foe and grabbed the back of his neck in a way that caused his head to hang limply over his chest. Now saddled with the man's full weight, Amy and Scott released him and his body dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

By this time, Isaac was free and Derek kicked the hunter's hazardous syringe into the holding cell. Isaac then hoisted his would-be assassin over his shoulder and dumped him unceremoniously into the prison with a satisfied smirk. After the door was once again locked, Stiles urged, "C'mon, someone definitely will have heard that."

As they fled the building, Amy couldn't help but muse, "I can't believe they only sent one person to take out Isaac…"

"Let's not question our luck," Stiles replied. However, a trace of trepidation in his tone revealed that he shared her sentiments.

"Good thing we're no strangers to evading the law. It'd be weird if we _weren't_ harboring fugitives at this point," she said on a lighter note, nudging Isaac as they packed into Derek's Camaro. The car was certainly not meant to accommodate five adults – let alone four full-grown men – and Amy, the smallest one, was practically sitting on Scott and Stiles' laps. Derek decked it out of the police station parking lot.

As they were driving, Scott asked, "What happened to that police officer at the front desk?"

Amy and Stiles shared a glance that conveyed their mutual feeling of guilt for not having paid the poor woman more than a passing thought. Hell, they'd even passed her unconscious body slumped over the desk as they left the station!

"The Argents' hunter knocked her out with some sort of tranquilizer. She'll be fine."

And with that, they passed the rest of the ride in silent wonderment at the simplicity of their victory.

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**Author's Note: Let me know what you think! Even though I have a plot outline, it's hard to keep up motivation without feedback from you guys, so please please please review! I cherish every one of themmmm**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: GUYS WHY DON'T YOU CARE ABOUT THIS STORY ANYMORE? WHAT AM I DOING WRONG? Anyway, thank you so much to SilverAdvenger12 and AnSDtwiHard for reviewing, you guys are awesome. Also Lycan Lover 411, you review consistently and are awesome. Hope you all like this.**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

Stiles, Scott, Amy, Isaac, and Derek did not go straight home. Instead, Derek brought Isaac to the abandoned subway train they had used during the full moon, where he would be able to avoid police capture. Isaac didn't protest – he trusted Stiles when he told them that the first place his father was going to look for him was Derek's apartment. So, he remained banished beneath Beacon Hills, left alone with only Derek's promise that he would visit him in the morning to comfort him.

Sure enough, shortly after Amy and Derek did return home in the middle of the night, Sheriff Stilinski and several other officers showed up at their doorstep. The sheriff was courteous to Amy and harsh to Derek and it was only after he had thoroughly scoured the apartment that he left begrudgingly. They were relieved to see him go, naturally, but the fact that he had so promptly implicated them in Isaac's disappearance was troubling. It was going to be a great deal of effort to cover their tracks from the police, it seemed.

_THE NEXT MORNING_

With Isaac on the run from the law, Jackson dead, and Lydia in the process of moving to Europe, Amy decided it was high time she return to Beacon Hills High. Things were so chaotic – she figured her own drama would be too far past to be of any interest. Students had probably forgotten _all_ about the fact that she had been brutally stabbed (by the principal, no less! But they were ignorant of that particularly juicy detail…) and that she would be able to slip back into class well under the radar. Plus, despite the fact that she had already been accepted to college, she didn't think Cornell would take too kindly to any more absences on her part. And she had to admit, she did miss having a stable routine.

But, as she awoke that weekday morning and headed straight to the bathroom to get ready, she was struck with a fresh wave of paranoia and terror. So much for escaping drama… This drama, though it was laughably mundane compared to everything else she had been forced to endure during the last few months, was no less horrifying.

She was… two days late. Now normally, for someone else, this might not have been an issue. But Amy's monthly gift was always exactly on time. Always. She could have set a clock by it. And so she was, understandably, deeply concerned – especially when she took into consideration what she had been doing the week leading up to the full moon. Simple logic dictated that the probability of getting pregnant increased the number of times you had sex, and she and Derek had certainly provided a great number of opportunities for something to go wrong.

Of course, they always used condoms. Always. Derek was just as conscientious in this matter as she was, if not more so. But, as she'd learned in middle school health class, condoms were not completely foolproof and could, in obscenely unlucky cases, break or otherwise malfunction. And, nearly every time, they'd been in such a frenzy that they hadn't really been checking to make sure that everything was shipshape down there and they hadn't exactly been gentle. A fatal tear was not out of the question.

What she didknow was that it was too early to take a test, so she would have to wait it out for another couple of days if she wanted an accurate result, and she _definitely_ knew that waiting would be torturous.

She showered unhappily and attempted to beautify herself in the mirror, but her mind was too clouded with worry to be made to care about anything but the issue at hand._ You're probably fine_, she told herself. She couldn't help but suspect that she was overreacting. But what if she wasn't? What if she really was… Amy gulped heavily, unable to even bring herself to think of the word.

After cramming her makeup back into her travel bag with a misplaced sort of aggression, she slipped out of the bathroom.

"I'm heading to school," she informed Derek, giving him a quick peck on the cheek as she left in a flurry.

Before she could make it to the door, however, he caught her wrist and tugged her back towards him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a second – is everything okay?" His thick brows knitted together as he heard her heart thump irregularly, a telltale sign of crippling anxiety.

In the safety of her own mind, Amy screamed a string of vulgarities – she knew he would be able to tell that something was bothering her right away, which was why she'd been in such a rush to leave. "Everything is fine," she lied, tilting her head in false puzzlement. "I've gotta go, though, I'm already late."

He reluctantly watched her leave; he was dissatisfied with how quickly she dismissed his concern, but let her go nevertheless. Perhaps the nervousness he'd sensed was merely a result of the typical first-day-of-school syndrome.

At school, she was greeted by the odd student here and there asking her how she was doing. The teachers, naturally, all expressed their concern and condolences. She kept these conversations cordial, but concise; she really didn't have time for pleasantries with everything else she was juggling. She certainly wasn't coming back to school for social reasons.

She was, however, very interested in talking to Lydia.

"I'm leaving at the end of the week," the strawberry-blonde casually informed her over a meager lunch of mixed greens and ice tea. The others – Scott, Stiles, and Allison – were also at the table, but they had already heard Lydia's goodbye speech, if it could be called such.

"You're leaving… permanently?" Amy's tone begged for clarification, despite the fact that Allison had already debriefed her on the situation.

"Yes," she confirmed. "At least until I finish college. Then, who knows…"

"You're going alone?"

"Yes."

"Aren't you going miss your parents?"

"I'll live."

This rapid-fire Q&A came to an abrupt pause as Amy gnawed thoughtfully on a Golden Delicious apple. After she had swallowed a bite of the juicy fruit, she mused, "Paris is a long ways away."

"I'm aware. That's kind of the point."

Stiles looked particularly crestfallen at this comment, but regarded Lydia only with a pining, sidelong glance. Scott shot him a sympathetic look from across the table; it seemed quite clear that Stiles and Lydia were not destined for one another, after all. Amy was sure she was not alone in her hope that he would be able to move on quickly and without being too heartbroken.

"Well," she said finally, "We'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too," she conceded with an unexpected sigh. "But it's not _forever_. And you guys can come visit."

"We would love to," Allison piped in cheerily in an attempt to raise everyone's spirits. "I'd like to spend a semester abroad in Paris, actually."

"Perfect! So it won't be too long before our paths cross again," Lydia stated.

"But first I have to get into college…" she reflected rather morosely.

"Your grades are perfect! Trust me, you'll get into college," Scott scoffed. "I'm the one who should be worried."

"You'll be fine, dude," Stiles reassured him. It was strange that he'd gone so long without speaking. "You're amazing at lacrosse, you'll be fine. You'll probably even get a scholarship." He was about to go into how _he_ should be the one to be worried, what with his lack of academic _and_ athletic prowess, but he thought better of it at the last moment – he didn't want the conversation to degrade into a competition of self-pity. Instead, he drowned his misgivings in a long swig of Fanta, which he would have gratefully exchanged for something a bit stronger.

After lunch, Amy, Lydia, and Allison headed to the lavatory for their pre-class grooming routine. What they did in there for a solid ten minutes was an utter mystery to Scott and Stiles, and they liked to keep it this way.

"Guys, I kind of have a problem," Amy mumbled as she fixed her hair over the sink.

"What is it?" Allison questioned.

"My period is late…"

Lydia and Allison, wide-eyed, looked at one another in an understanding sort of dismay. They were no strangers to pregnancy scares.

"How late?" Lydia asked scientifically.

"… Only two days. But that's a lot for me," she added. As Lydia made her feel more and more irrational, her desire to justify herself became increasingly pressing.

"That's nothing," the other girl dismissed haphazardly. "Worry after it's been a week." She seemed visibly relieved as she reapplied her lip-gloss. Amy did not share her sentiments.

Allison, a bit more compassionate, tried, "You could always take a test if you're really worried."

"It's too soon since… you know… to take a test."

"Do you have any reason to believe that something went wrong?" Lydia demanded, hands on her hips.

"No, but – "

"You're fine," she cut her off. "Stop being paranoid. Are you on the pill?"

"No…" At this, the other two seemed mildly surprised. "Are you?" she countered in response to their expressions. Both girls nodded and Amy suddenly felt like she'd missed some sort of vital memo.

"Still," Lydia continued, "you should be fine if you used a condom."

A dark blush overtook her face as she sputtered, "We did!" Even though Lydia and Allison were two of her closest friends, she couldn't believe she was having this conversation. Derek would balk if he knew these girls were privy to the details of his sex-life.

"Then you really shouldn't worry," Allison soothed.

"Maybe you're right…" Amy allowed. But she just couldn't seem to shake the panicked feeling in the back of her mind. She wondered if there was such a thing as being a hypochondriac, but only about pregnancy. Truthfully, she didn't even want to go through the humiliation of buying a test – she barely looked her age and she _knew _the cashier would give her a knowing, judge-y look, and she didn't think she could survive it. If it came to that, she might force one of them to buy it for her. That's what friends were for, right?

Amy studied herself hard in the mirror; for a moment, it seemed ludicrous that she was stressing about something so ordinary. What would Derek say? Such fears probably weren't even in the scope of things he thought about. But she was aware that if she continued to fret, he would know something was up – in fact, he had already grown suspicious. And from that point, it was only a matter of guessing what the problem was and there were a limited number of possibilities. She didn't want to burden him with yet another worry, but she also didn't think she could hide it from him for very long.

Because of this, she was dreading going home. The more she spoke to him, the higher risk of him finding out became. Not that there was anything to "find out," at least not really. Her issue was still in the formative stages of its development, and hadn't yet become a legitimate cause for distress. She only prayed that her paranoia would prove to be just that – paranoia – and that it would happen sooner rather than later. For now, only time would tell.

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**Author's Note: THIS CHAPTER IS A CRY FOR HELP/ATTENTION PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. Sorry, I'm being over-dramatic. But seriously, please review! This is important! Also, r****andom fact, Dylan O'Brien (Stiles) and Kaya Scodelario (Amy) are actually going to be in a movie together IRL, can you believe that? What are the odds? Crazy crazy. Anyway, REVIEW.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: THANK YOU SO MUCH GUYZ, YOU'RE THE BEST! I knew I could count on you! Now, if only we could keep that up for the rest of the story... ;) I hope you all like this chapter!**

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**Chapter 12**

When Amy plopped her backpack down in the middle of the kitchen and was met with no greeting from Derek, it became quite clear that she was alone in the apartment. The silence was a far cry from the usual ruckus caused by her, Derek, and Isaac (and, sometimes, Scott and Stiles). Her solitude was both a relief and a cause for unease. On one hand, it meant that she didn't have to mask her internal panic, but, on the other, it meant that something could be wrong.

She shot him a quick text that read, _I'm at home, where are you?_

In the meantime, she figured she ought to start on her homework. Despite the fact that she was now well into the second half of her senior year (at which point slacking was more or less required), she had an inordinate amount to catch up on – not to mention, working would take her mind off of _other_ things.

After a little over an hour, Amy had gotten through about seventy pages of the novel she was supposed to read, _The Sun Also Rises_. She still hadn't received a response from Derek, and she was growing concerned. She tried calling him but, as she'd anticipated, there was no answer; so, she decided to do what she always did when Derek wasn't around or she couldn't get in touch with him – she called Stiles.

"What up?" was his unexpectedly carefree reply. His tone, combined with the fact that she'd just been doing schoolwork, was a throwback to her first few months in Beacon Hills, before the proverbial shit had hit the fan and back when she had a normal life. She felt an excruciating pang of nostalgia and forced herself to avert her thoughts before she suffered another panic attack. God, she was an emotional wreck…

Her hands shook as she said, "Hey, um, is Derek with you by any chance?"

"Negative, why?"

"Because he's not here and I don't know where he is," she said, all in one short breath. "I texted him, but he didn't answer."

"You sound worried," he noted evenly, "Are you worried? I'm sure everything's fine. He said he was going to see Isaac today, right? I'm sure that's where he is. Last time I checked Derek's not the best with a cell phone… Or technology in general, for that matter – don't you remember the incident with your iPhone charger in his Android?"

Amy nodded grimly despite the fact that Stiles could not see her. The words that came to mind were _'Just because you can make it fit doesn't mean it's supposed to!' _Luckily, he hadn't caused any permanent damage to either device.

"You're probably right, he did say he was going to visit Isaac," she conceded. "Just let me know if you hear from him, m'kay?"

"Yeah, sure, will do," he said dismissively. "By the way, I'm on my way to meet Scott at the vet's office, apparently he and his boss have something they want to discuss – really mysterious stuff, so once again I'm walking into a situation with absolutely no clue what to expect, which is always fun. I'll keep you updated – talk to ya later, Ames."

"Sounds good. Bye, Stiles." She hung up and, strangely, felt slightly calmer; Stiles seemed to have that effect on her.

After around twenty halfhearted minutes of doing math problems, there was a sudden knock at the downstairs door. Amy felt her entire body go rigid as a board. It obviously wasn't Derek because he wouldn't need to knock on the door to his own home, and she wasn't expecting anyone. The last time this had happened… The last time this had happened was the Gerard Incident.

Naturally, she made no move to answer the door and instead stayed stock-still in her seat. She was so tense that her pencil snapped between her fingers without warning, sending bits of wood everywhere. When she heard the noise again – this time more forcefully – she stood to look out the window. To her surprise, the person knocking was a woman that she didn't recognize. All Amy could tell from her downwards-looking vantage point was that she had sleek brown hair that was a bit lighter than her own due to a smattering of blondish highlights.

When she still refused to answer, the woman began banging again. "Hello," she said impatiently, "I'm looking for Derek Hale. I know someone's in there, I can hear you breathing."

Amy scrunched her nose, confused. She was on the second story – the only way someone would be able to hear her breathing was if…

_If they were a werewolf_, she realized abruptly.

Now thoroughly intrigued, she began to tiptoe down the staircase with the utmost caution. She knew it was probably stupid, but why would an unfamiliar female werewolf be looking for Derek? She had to get to the bottom of this...

When she appeared at the door and opened it, the woman looked taken aback. Now that she had time to scrutinize her, Amy noticed she was breathtakingly beautiful and looked to be several years older than she was, probably around Derek's age. The most prominent features on her square face were her large, chocolate-colored doe eyes and full, heart-shaped lips. Her skin was unseasonably tan, which suggested some sort of exotic heritage. Once she caught a whiff of her scent, Amy's suspicions were confirmed: she was also a werewolf, and Amy was one-hundred-percent certain that she didn't like her.

"Oh," the woman gasped. "You're not Derek at all."

"No, I'm not," Amy said bluntly, stifling the urge to roll her eyes. "Who are you?"

"My name's Lyssa Alvarez," she said in a bubbly tone, sticking her hand out for Amy to shake. The latter simply eyed it mistrustfully and offered no introduction of her own. When it became obvious that Amy was not going reciprocate her friendliness, she withdrew her hand awkwardly.

"What do you want?"

'Lyssa' seemed flustered, but recovered quickly. "I'm looking for Derek Hale," she said. "Do you know where I can find him?"

Amy crossed her arms over her chest and leant against the doorway. "That depends on why are you looking for him," she stated.

Lyssa finally seemed to grow weary of Amy's standoffish demeanor and placed her hands firmly on her hips. "I'm sorry," she said edgily, "I didn't catch your name."

"That's because I never told it to you," she drawled with equivalent sass. "I'm Amy, and Derek's not here."

"Do you know when he'll be back? I really need to talk to him, it's important…"

"I don't know when he'll be back, but if you let me know why you're looking for him, maybe I can help." The way she offered this, though, suggested nothing of the sort.

"I'd rather not talk out here – it's a bit of a sensitive topic, if you catch my drift…"

Clearly, she was looking to be invited inside; Amy humored her. "I guess you can come in," she allowed, stepping aside so she could enter the building. She followed her up the stairs to the door to her apartment and Amy gave this strange woman another scornful once-over before stepping through the threshold.

"So, how do you know Derek," Amy interrogated the moment they made it inside.

"Oh, I don't," she sputtered. She seemed almost apologetic for having misled Amy. "I've never met him, I've only heard about him."

Now, she was even more perplexed. Brows knitted together, she asked, "Then why are you here?"

"I'm here to warn him – I'm from a few towns over, and just a couple of days ago my entire pack was slaughtered by hunters. I'm the only survivor."

"What hunters?"

"It's the Grimm family, and they're headed this way. I desperately need a pack and I heard that Derek is the Alpha in this area, so I was going to ask if I could join…"

Amy was still hung up on the hunter comment. "The Grimm family? Like the Brothers Grimm? Are you serious?"

"Yeah," she said sadly. "Strange, I know… I couldn't believe it either. I'm kind of new to all this, actually, but my packleader warned us against becoming omegas, hence why I'm here."

"I assure you you're not as new as I am," Amy said wryly under her breath.

"Are you one of Derek's packmembers?" she asked.

"Yeah. I was turned a little over a month ago, so I'm _super_ new to all this."

"Oh, wow. I've been like this for a couple of years, but there's still so much that I don't know."

"Tell me about it," she mumbled. Amy suddenly caught herself becoming too familiar with this woman, and scowled to herself. Despite the fact that she _seemed_ easy enough to talk to, she refused to trust her.

"So… When do you think Derek will be back?" she questioned uncomfortably. Amy's instinctual dislike for her radiated throughout the apartment like a thick fog, and Lyssa would have been an awfully incompetent werewolf not to notice it. There was something distinctly territorial about it, which she found interesting; she suspected Amy was more than just Derek's packmember.

"I was telling the truth when I said I don't know," she confessed. "Hopefully it'll be soon, though."

Then, in a sequence of events that seemed impossibly coincidental, the two girls' keen sense of hearing detected someone trudging up the fire escape – it was undoubtedly Derek. Clad in his customary leather jacket and a pair of jeans, he slid through the window that bridged the living room and the kitchen.

"What's going on here? Who are you?" he asked accusatorily. He had experienced a rush of alarm associated with the need to protect Amy when he realized that she was not alone in the apartment, but this sentiment was subdued slightly when he saw that there was no ostensible danger.

"My name is Lyssa Alvarez," she said eagerly. "I came here looking for you – you must be Derek Hale, right?"

He eyed her with a wary expression that was identical to the one Amy had used when the woman first introduced herself. "I am," he allowed.

"You're the Alpha in this town, right?"

"I am," he repeated. "_Why_?"

"I was just explaining it to Amy," she said, recounting what she had told the girl in question several minutes prior to his arrival.

When she was finished, Derek's eyebrows were knotted together in confusion as he said, "The Grimm family never ventures this far west – they operate exclusively on the East Coast." Clearly, he was not buying her tale.

"Something must have changed," she insisted sincerely. "I know you both must feel it too…" she trailed off cryptically.

"Feel what?" Amy interrupted with annoyance.

"Like something big is about to happen. It's like this tug in the pit of your stomach and you don't know exactly why, but you just _feel _it."

Amy and Derek locked eyes – they did feel it. They'd been feeling it since he became the Alpha, since Gerard arrived in Beacon Hills. It was during this moment of silent understanding that Lyssa became absolutely certain that the two of them were far more than just an Alpha and his packmember; furthermore, she could sense that they believed her, even if they didn't want to.

"So, you want to join my pack," Derek stated coolly. "Obviously, you're going to have to prove your loyalty."

"Of course," she agreed, nodding keenly. "I'll do whatever you want."

At this, Amy bristled visibly. Derek, however, was unfazed. "I'll discuss it with my other packmembers before I tell you just what you'll have to do. Are you staying in Beacon Hills?"

"Yeah, I'm staying at a motel in town. Here's my number, so you can contact me." She dug a thin slip of paper out of her pocked and handed it to him, and it irked Amy to no end that she'd had it ready to go.

As she started towards the door, she turned to them and gushed, "Thank you so much for this opportunity. I promise you I won't disappoint you."

Arms crossed, Amy only uttered, "We'll see." And then, without further ado, Lyssa was gone.

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**Author's Note: So, picture Lyssa as Leighton Meester (Blair from Gossip Girl, one of my favorite actresses lol). What do you guys think of her/the chapter in general? And I'm sorry that the whole pregnancy scare thing wasn't really discussed much, but there will be time for that in the future ;) I'd really love to have as much feedback as last time! Love you all!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Hey guys! So sorry for the delay, school has been kicking my ass. Thank you so so much to those of you who reviewed the last chapter, it means so much to me! I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

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**Chapter 13**

Once Lyssa was both out of the apartment building and out of earshot, Amy spun around to face Derek and demanded, "Do you trust her?"

Unfazed by the force with which she'd uttered this question, he looked pensive for several moments before replying, "I hardly trust anyone, so no. But I think we should at least give her a chance to prove herself. Regardless of whether we can trust her or not, I think we can agree that we have to keep an eye on her, wouldn't you say?"

Her irritation was obvious before he'd even finished responding. Instead of answering, she mumbled under her breath, "Just what we need… yet another complication."

"She could be an asset," he reasoned evenly. For the moment, he was far more concerned by his girlfriend's clear and seemingly unwarranted annoyance.

Amy held back a snort of disapproval, but her chagrin was still obvious.

"What's up with you?" Derek asked, unable to resist any longer. He'd wanted her to tell him on her own accord, but it was quickly becoming apparent that this was an unfeasible expectation.

"Nothing." Her arms were crossed defensively over her chest, though, which even he knew to be the universal sign for _not_ 'nothing.'

"Something is obviously bothering you – and it has been all day," he pressed.

"She was really beautiful," she replied snippily, as if it were somehow relevant to the conversation at hand.

"Lyssa? We're still talking about that?" he scoffed in disbelief. "I didn't notice," he added tersely.

"Yeah right – how could you not notice," she spat, "She was, like, Vogue-level beautiful."

Derek wasn't quite sure he even knew what 'Vogue' was. "Are we really having this conversation?" he snapped in agitation. "I can hear your heartbeat – is that seriously what's bothering you so much?" Rightly so, he seemed incredibly unconvinced that Amy – who had made such strides in the past months – could be behaving so immaturely. He might have expected this sort of thing from her at the start of their relationship, but certainly not now. Plus, it didn't explain why she'd been in this state of anxiety since the morning.

"Yes!" she blurted out shrilly. However, he didn't need his werewolf powers to tell that she was lying to him – it was perfectly evident in way that she was gnawing on her lower lip. Caught, she finally admitted in the softest of voices, "No."

"Then what is it?" he asked more gently, stepping closer to her.

"It's nothing."

"It's obviously not nothing." His eyes bore into hers, trying desperately to understand what had her so on edge and so unwilling to share with him. He wracked his brain to think of what could possibly be the source of her secretive dismay, but he could think of nothing.

"Please," she murmured, gaze cast downwards. "Please don't make me tell you."

At this, Derek was thoroughly concerned. He brought one hand to her face, his thumb moving reassuringly against the skin at her jawline. His face was mere centimeters from hers when he said, "What do you mean _make_ you tell me? Why wouldn't you want to tell me on your own?"

She sighed heavily and turned her head away from him, eyes cast to the floor. "It's complicated."

"Nothing's ever complicated," he said. "Not with us."

She laughed darkly, rolled her eyes, and corrected, "_Everything's_ complicated with us."

He said nothing, but she could sense his disappointment at his inability to convince her to confess her troubles; she found this difficult to ignore. "I'm afraid," she finally admitted vaguely.

"Afraid of what?"

"Of everything."

"You're going to have to be more specific." He gave her hand a squeeze with his free one, urging her to continue. He genuinely could not fathom what she could be so fearful of telling him.

"I'm late," she said finally. "Only a few days, but still… That's a lot for me. And the week before the full moon – we weren't as careful as we usually are."

There were several beats of paralyzing silence before, to Amy's utter shock, Derek looked immensely relieved – he even cracked a smile. Her astonishment was obvious, so he said, "You were afraid you afraid you're pregnant? That's what this is about?"

For some reason, she suddenly felt incredibly stupid and defensive. "That's a valid worry, wouldn't you agree?" she hissed, jerking away from him.

"You're not pregnant," he told her matter-of-factly as his hands fell to his sides.

"Wha-what do you mean I'm not pregnant? How can you know that?"

"I'd be able to sense it right away," he explained. "As you probably know, pregnancy causes enormous hormonal changes. You'd have a different scent to everyone, but especially to me. Male werewolves always know when a female is carrying their children."

"So… I smell the same?" Before he could even answer, Amy collapsed against his chest, her knees weak as her relief overwhelmed her like a tidal wave.

He held her and rested his chin on the top of her head as he confirmed, "Exactly the same. You're not pregnant."

"Thank god," she mumbled into the cotton fabric of his shirt.

"This is why you should tell me if something is bothering you," he said into her hair. "Most of the time I can help."

"I didn't want to worry you."

"Amy, even if something like that did happen – we'd be in it together. It wouldn't be your burden to carry alone and we would work through it as a team, just like everything else."

"Yeah, but that's just it – we have so much else going on… The last thing you need is me causing more issues."

Derek pulled away from her, but kept a grip on her shoulders; he suddenly seemed very vexed. "Don't say things like that," he scolded fervidly. "You obviously wouldn't be the only one responsible, and it's not as if you would have done something wrong. You should never feel alone in any situation like that."

Wide-eyed and taken aback by the passion with which he delivered this statement, she could do nothing but concede, "I guess you're right."

"But you have a point that we should probably be more careful during the full moon," he admitted with a trace of discomfort. "By design, you're most likely to get pregnant during the full moon, which is probably why your… _schedule_ is a little off."

She wanted to giggle at the fact that big-bad-Alpha Derek Hale couldn't bring himself to utter the word 'period,' but instead she nodded slowly – this made sense. She supposed they would just have to be more diligent.

Feeling emboldened and carefree after having this weight lifted so suddenly from her shoulders, she questioned, "What would we do if I _were_ pregnant?"

Derek sighed deeply and turned his attention everywhere else in the room before he turned it to her. "I don't know," was his tight-lipped response. "I suppose it would depend on what _you_ would want to do."

Amy thought about it – she didn't know what she would want to do with any real certainty, but she was inclined to say she didn't want to be a teen mom. "Do you ever want kids? Just in general, I mean?"

She hadn't thought he could be more uncomfortable until she asked his question – his whole body tensed. "I don't know," he repeated. Turning the tables, he asked, "Do _you_?"

"I don't know," she echoed, suddenly sharing his intense feeling of awkwardness. Before everything that had happened, she'd always assumed she'd have children at some point far, far in the future, but now, she wasn't so sure. It seemed cruel to bring kids into a world wrought with such danger and turmoil. On the other hand, though, that was what werewolves _did_. Like all creatures, they were hardwired to procreate, and familial lines – from what she could gather – were of the utmost importance. She didn't know if she would be able to outrun her base instincts for her entire life.

"This isn't something we have to discuss now," he said finally. "I'm just glad that's all that was bothering you."

"I still don't like Lyssa," she grumbled in a dark tone.

Derek grabbed her tightly and pressed a kiss to her temple. "You have nothing to be jealous of," he whispered huskily into her ear.

She cheekily wriggled out of his grasp and quipped, "That's what you say now. After we start spending time with her… It might be a different story." Her voice was playful, but her misgivings were not insincere.

"You have _nothing _to worry about," he insisted. "Sometimes it frustrates me that I care about you so much, that I can't get you out of my head. You're the only woman I've thought about in nearly a year."

Amy's standoffish demeanor wavered at this comment, and she allowed herself to be engulfed by his strong arms once more. Derek was so rarely sentimental that she figured he must be telling the truth. She kissed him softly and when they pulled apart she said, "We should tell the others about our new comrade."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I have a feeling they're going to be just as distrustful as you are."

"And rightly so. I'm surprised that you're so willing to give her a chance, what with all that's happened."

"Omegas are almost always telling the truth when they say they want to join a pack. It's like I've told you guys many times before – it's a dangerous world out there for werewolves in general, and it's a hundred times more dangerous for Omegas. She's probably desperate."

"You can say that again," she scoffed. "She chose the worst pack to try to join. What do you think about her story that the other hunters are coming?"

"It's not impossible that the Grimm family might have flown here from the East Coast. It does seem kind of fishy, though… Hunter families don't usually collaborate. Plus, that would mean that they've left that whole area to it's own devices, which seems like a really stupid thing to do. Upstate New York and New England and teeming with the oldest werewolf families in the country."

"You have family members still there, don't you?"

"Yeah, in New York. But we're pretty distantly related."

"Are you related to _the_ original Hale family? Like, as in Nathan Hale?"

"The Revolutionary War soldier?" He was evading the question, which indicated to Amy that he _was_ related to him.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I am."

"Holy shit."

"Let's just say he wasn't hanged and it wasn't for being a spy…"

"He was a werewolf?"

Derek nodded curtly. For some reason, he didn't seem too keen on answering her questions.

"Was he at least still killed by the Red Coats?"

He shook his head. "Not exactly. He was killed by Hessians."

"What's a Hessian?"

"Someone didn't pay attention in American History," he chided lightly. "Hessians were German soldiers hired by the British."

"… German? Like the Grimms?"

"Exactly like the Grimms," he confirmed.

"So your family has a history with them?"

"You could say that."

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**Author's Note: So I'm just gonna let that sit there... A lot happened in this chapter (kind of... we got some answers) so let me know what you think! Happy or sad that Amy's not preggo? What do you think of Derek's family background?**

**Full disclosure, I just started watching the show Sleepy Hollow (and I also wrote a one-shot for it, if you're interested) and that's where I got the Hessian idea. It's a great show, you should all watch it! I need my supernatural fix now that Teen Wolf isn't airing anymore.**

**But yeah! Please review!**


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